


Bad in the Blood

by thelittlestpurplecat



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, BDSM mention, Bathtub Sex, Blood, Blow Jobs, Complete, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, First Time, Flirting, Food Sex, Full Consent, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Murder, Mutual Pining, Nipple Play, Riding, Rimming, Spoiled Bucky, Teasing, Technical Underage, Torture, Underage Drinking, mob boss's son Bucky, physical assault, steve is seventeen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 90,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestpurplecat/pseuds/thelittlestpurplecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes leads a charmed life. As the son of the most powerful, and arguably most dangerous man in Brooklyn, all he had to do was want something, and it was his. People fell over themselves to garner a little favor from him, and his family; that is, until Steve Rogers.</p><p>Bucky finds himself drawn to the prickly little nothing of a kid who dared to turn him down, but the set up is far from perfect. Steve's family has gotten in the mob's bad graces, and Bucky find himself torn between family loyalties, and the boy who make him, for the first time, feel something for someone other than himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Ohcaptainmycaptain1918 for the fantastic advice! I'd sill probably be rewriting the beginning paragraph 18000 times without your help. <3

“Mom, I’m going out,” Bucky called, glancing into the parlor where his mother was indulging in a good book and glass of fine wine. Mrs. Barnes was reclined on the sofa, her feet crossed at the ankles, one long, slender fingers resting on her page. The woman’s dark chestnut hair was swept up away from her face, the high bun drawing attention to the delicate pearl earrings dangling from her lobes. At the sound of her son’s voice, she lifted her chin to take him in with a sweep of her gaze. 

Bucky stood in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the polished wood frame, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. Her son was a remarkably handsome young man, with her dark hair, and his father’s steel blue eyes, and Mrs. Barnes was unfalteringly proud of him. With a easy gesture of her hand, she beckoned him over.

“Say goodbye to your father before you leave.” She reminded him smoothly.

Bucky flashed her an easy smirk, crossing the room in a few long strides and stooping to kiss her cheek. “How could I forget?” He teased, moving to straighten when his mother caught the front of his jacket. Bucky stopped with a sigh, the corners of his red lips still turned up, waiting patiently as his mother fussed with his outfit. Bucky had lived a charmed life, and he knew it. He’d never known a day in his life, when he hadn’t been sucking on a silver spoon, and it hardly mattered at who’s expense his comfort came. All that matter was that Bucky could go anywhere he wanted, and have anything, or any _one_  he wanted, and his only annoyance in life was his mother’s fussing. 

“Dad’s-”

“In the basement.” He mother finished, finally relinquishing her hold once she was satisfied that all the wrinkles had been tugged straight. “Taking care of some work matters.”

Bucky nodded, his flushed lips slightly pursed as he soaked in the words. Work matters were messy, and  _messy_  was entertaining. Without another word, Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets, once again bunching the recently neatened material, and strode out of the room.

-.-

Tortured screams echoed through the hallways before Bucky had even reached the top of the basement steps. Piercing, and incessant, the wails of agony rang in his ears. It should have been chilling, but Bucky felt only a mild annoyance at the noise as he opened to basement door, trotting jauntily down the steps. 

Whoever it was must have really been on his dad’s bad side. The man, or what was left of him, lurched against his bonds, swaying sickly in the chair as blow after blow split the skin across his cheekbones. Blood ran from his mouth, coating his chin and neck as he screamed for relief, receiving another vicious blow, as he babble incoherent pleas for mercy. Bucky’s father stood in front of him, hands scarlet with the unfortunate man’s blood, solid finger curled through the rings of a set of brass knuckles. 

“You doing alright there Flintly?” He asked, his fingers twining through the man’s hair as he wrenched his head back, slamming the cold, unforgiving brass into his jaw. “Comfy?”  _Crack “_ Need a scotch? Cigar?”  _Crack._

“Please!” The man screamed, the single word thick, and distorted, as he slurred around broken teeth and a mouthful of blood. 

Mr. Barnes released his hair with a jerk, leaning close enough to smell the blood on the man’s lips. “Thinking a little harder about selling on my turf?” The mob leader asked, his smile wide, eyes as cold as ice. “I warned ya Flintly,” He breathed. “Warned ya fair and square, said y’d better get your elbows out of my market, but y’didn’t take my advice. I was  _nice_  to you Flintly…Gave you plenty of time…” The dark haired man offered an apologetic shrug, pursing his lips before giving a little shake of his head. “Can’t be nice anymore…”

“Hey dad-”

Mr. Barnes froze, torn for one moment between his work and his family, before he abruptly straightened. The man turned, his smile widening. “Hey Bucko,” He grinned, strolling over and pulling Bucky’s head close, pressing a firm kiss to his temple. 

Bucky’s nose wrinkled, and he smirked, shoving himself back. “Dad-” He protested, with a low chuckle, reaching up to scrub at the dark smear of blood his father had left high on his cheekbone. Mr. Barnes dug in his pocket, extending a clean, white handkerchief to him with a faint smirk. Bucky received the token, scrubbing the crimson streak from his skin. “Just came down to tell you I’m heading out.” 

“Classes?”

“Nah,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Don’t feel like it today.” Normally, he didn’t mind his classes at the local college campus, but he was _Bucky fucking Barnes_ , and if he didn’t feel like going to class, not one could stop him. No one really tried.

And that was the beauty of being him. All Bucky had to do was want something, and it was his.

Bucky liked girls, a  _lot,_ and he had a line up of them just waiting to fall on their knees for him. But Bucky also had the privilege of being able to enjoy the company of guys just as easily without anyone giving him flack. A guy’s mouth was just a warm as a girl’s. Bucky was flexible, and he was at a convenient age for it too. At 20 year old he was legal, and could make it with any adult he felt like, while still having the opportunity to indulge in the occasional junior or senior in high school. The only thing that was off limits to Bucky was his father’s men, though he seldom actually heeded that restriction. Flirting came second nature to Bucky, and he was quite comfortable with seducing the men who worked for his family, but his success was fairly limited. Most of them were too worried about getting their teeth ripped out if they were caught fucking their boss’s kid. Still Bucky savored the privilege of being able to have _most_ everyone he wanted.

Bucky tipped his chin towards the bound man, one eyebrow arched in mild curiosity. “What’s _he_ gettin it for?” He asked, stuffing his hands back in his pockets, and studying the shivering mass of bloodied flesh like one might study a dead insect. Violence was a natural to Bucky as breathing, and he’d grown to be unperturbed by his family’s visceral exploits.

Mr. Barnes slid the brass knuckles, still slick with blood, off his fingers, letting them clatter aside. He took his handkerchief back, mopping up the worst of the mess from his hands. “My friend Flintly here was selling drugs on our turf.” Came the rumbled reply, the mob boss watching as a tremor passed through the battered man. “I warned him to back off our territory, but he kept sneaking around, thinking he could go behind my back…”

Bucky snorted. Nothing got past his dad; if this guy thought he could keep his little operation cloak and dagger than he was more of an idiot than Bucky had initially thought. Truth be told though, _anyone_ who got themselves on the bad side of the mob was an idiot to begin with.

Mr. Barnes heaved a sigh, slipping a short blade off of the small end table resting near the chair. “ _Apparently_ ,” he murmured, seizing a fistful of Flintly’s hair and wrenching his head up with a cry. “Flintly’s not the only one working our neighborhood…I’ve gotten a couple good names out of him and I’ll been sending out a few warnings…” The boss mused, spinning the knife deftly in his free hand. “First on the list-” the blade punched through the front of Flintly’s skull with a sickening crunch. “ _Rogers_.”

-.-

Killing didn’t bother Bucky. Torture, blood, and screaming, it was all commonplace. _Rain_ though, _rain_ bothered Bucky, and the sky was hung with low, ominous clouds. He’d hoped that a long walk, and a full day of avoiding his responsibilities would make him feel better, but the spitting bits of moisture in the air soured his mood. He wavered on the edge of the decision to head back when Bucky’s gaze was caught by something that would make being out in the weather worth it.

A young man, maybe seventeen or eighteen, was walking down the street towards him. His narrow, boney shoulders were hunched against the spitting precipitation, thin arms wrapped around his narrow ribcage. Although his chin was tucked against his protruding collarbones, Bucky could see the delicate, pink swell of his lush bottom lip. He could see a glint of sky blue beneath long dark lashes that caught the little droplets of rain and scattered them like beads of crystal. His hair, damp, and clinging, was a soft golden blond, darkened by the rain as it stuck to his forehead and razored cheekbones.

Bucky’s tongue slid out to wet his lips, his gaze raking over the hunched figure, and suddenly Bucky knew _exactly_ what he was going to be doing for the rest of the day. Although maybe,  _who_  he would be doing for the rest of the day would be a more appropriate sentiment. The moment the slender youth passed him, Bucky turned on his heel, abruptly changing direction and falling into step beside him.

The pretty little blond heard the change of step, his gaze flickering over out from under those dame’s lashes of his. Bucky was perceptive, and he knew suspicion when he saw it. The young man’s eyes had gone suddenly clear with focus, aware of his movements, and proximity. Although he turned his face forward, Bucky knew he was still being very cautiously observed.

Bucky turned his gaze over, taking him in with a sweep of his eyes. "Hey Sugar," he greeted with a cocky smirk, shaking a few strands of clinging, dark hair out of his eyes. For a moment, the blond’s eyes snapped back over to him, guarded, and possibly a bit annoyed. Without so much as the courtesy of a reply, his shoulder’s rolled forward, his posture growing more hunched, and closed, but Bucky wasn’t one to be deterred. The older boy slid his tongue distractingly over his teeth, studying the object of his attention. His eyes were fixed ahead, scuffed shoes skidding through the thin film of moisture on the ground as he trudged towards his destination. He was purposefully ignoring him, and Bucky’s grin spread. "C’mon dollface,” He drawled easily, “Y’gotta name?"

Again, the gaunt young man’s gaze turned to him, laced with annoyance, and frustration. “Look, I’m not interested, so beat it.” He snapped tightly, turning forward again as he picked up his pace, squinting against the drizzle.

Bucky blinked, affronted by the dismissal. He was a _Barnes_ for God’s sake! This little punk couldn’t just tell him to ‘ _beat it_.’ Abruptly, Bucky stuffed the offense. The kid didn’t know any better, but he would. Matching the younger man’s pace, Bucky’s hand slipped forward, snagging the boy’s slender arm, and spinning him easily.

He stumbled, suddenly finding himself in very close proximity to the older boy. His fingers were curled tight around his upper arm, and his narrow heaving chest nearly rested against Bucky’s broad, muscular torso. Bucky’s free hand slipped forward, his index finger tapping lightly against the underside of his chin, raising his hostile gaze to his own. “Just a name can’t hurt,” Bucky purred, coaxing him to loosen up. “What’s a pretty little thing like you called?”

The fragile young man’s annoyance abruptly flared into barely suppressed anger. "I’m called ‘ _go sit on a dick’_ " he spat, his teeth clenched, as he wrenched away. But Bucky’s grip was surprisingly strong, and prying himself free was proving to be more of an obstacle that he had originally anticipated.

Still drinking in the sight, Bucky sunk his teeth into his lower lip, drawing the color to the surface as he studied him. He was pleased to see that the small young man was distracted by the gesture, if just for a moment.  His eyes flicked to Bucky’s mouth, catching for just a fraction of a second before he tore them away. Bucky swept his tongue over his flushed lips, and infuriating smirk playing just at the corners. “If y’don’t tell me your name I’m just gonna start makin’ things up.” He purred, and was met be hostile silence. “Baby doll.” The beautiful young man fixed him with a poisonous glare. “Sweetheart, honey-”

"Steve." He gritted out and Bucky stopped dead, his expression lifting into a grin. The grip on his upper arm loosened, and Bucky pulled back, pausing for just a moment to smooth his palms over the wrinkles in Steve’s jacket. The gesture was obnoxiously reminiscent of his mother, but Bucky hadn’t been able to help himself. Besides, it had allowed him to get a sense of the pretty, delicate physique Steve was hiding under the unflattering jacket. The blond brow drew lower, and he eased a step back, but didn’t bolt.

"Steve, huh?" Bucky mused, studying him. Tipping his chin up with an air of confidence, Bucky extended a hand, which was met with a critically unresponsive stare. Bucky wasn’t put off; he still had an ace in play. Barely suppressing a smirk, Bucky lowered his hand, tucking it back in his pocket. "Name’s Bucky Barnes."

The words hit Steve like a punch to the gut, and he froze, suddenly mute with horror. Maybe he hadn’t known Bucky by name, but there was only _one_ Barnes family in Brooklyn, and _everyone_ knew of them. They where the people you never wanted to cross, the people who were capable of murder without repercussion, and Steve had just told their oldest son to _beat it_. It would be well within Bucky’s power to pop him one in the head just for mouthing off.

“Bucky Barnes…” Steve repeated, his low, quite voice a little weak. He felt sick.

Knowing he had the shock factor for a moment more, Bucky took his opportunity. He strolled forward, a reassuring smile touching his lips.  His name had had the desired affect on Steve, instant recognition, but he also looked like he was going to hurl. Gently, Bucky slipped an arm around his boney shoulders and drawing him close against his side. “Don’t worry about it kid,” He smirked, “I ain’t mad at ya. In fact…Why don’t you and I get outta the rain?” He breathed, bending so that his flushed, red lips almost grazing the shell of Steve’s ear. He could feel the warmth rising from his skin, smell the rain on his cheeks. “I can take ya somewhere nice and dry…promise I’ll treat ya real good…” Bucky eased closer, his damp mouth just brushing the top of his ear and-

Steve’s horrified gaze abruptly snapped back to focus, and he wrenched away, physically shoving Bucky off with more force that he had though Steve possessed. The older boy stumbled, his shoulder glancing off the building to his back as Steve staggered back a pace, his narrow chest heaving. Bucky stared, and then the moment of surprise suddenly gave way to a roiling anger. Who did this punk think he was? Not only rejecting him, but _shoving_ him? He _did_ realize who he was talking to didn’t he? He _did_ realize it was well within Bucky’s rights to take _whatever_ he wanted, and if he wanted him, he should be fucking grateful! Didn’t he realize Bucky could have him knocked off just for _looking_ at him the wrong way?

Bucky set his teeth, pushing away from the wall and stalking forward. His brow was draw in a scowl of frustration, eyes dark, a muscle twinging along his jaw.  “Look kid,” He spat, “I’m _trying_ to be nice-”

"Well stop trying and fuck off."

The words that spilled from Steve mouth shocked the both of them into frozen silence. Steve felt his body go numb, and icy. If Bucky wasn’t going to kill him off just for rejecting him, than he would for telling him to fuck off for sure. It was a strange sensation, knowing he’d just spoken his own death sentence, yet Steve couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Even now, staring at Bucky’s shocked expression and waiting for him to put a bullet in his brain, all Steve could think was that no one had ever denied this guy _anything_ in his life. Steve figured that was a good enough legacy to leave on his way out.

Slowly, the shock began to filter through his system _. Fuck off_ …this skinny little brat was telling him to fuck off…it was hysterical, and so ludicrous that he almost couldn’t believe it. His entire life, Bucky had always gotten exactly what he wanted. There was never a fight, or a struggle; there was never even a question! If he decided he wanted Steve, he _should_ have been more than willing. Most people would jump at the chance to get in good standing with his family, and maybe sleeping with him wouldn’t win them privileges, but it might buy them a little security. Besides, whoever Bucky took home with him was guaranteed an evening of luxury that few people would get to experience any other way. He had already been imagining taking Steve on his down mattress, watching him run his beautiful, slender fingers over the silk sheets, balling them in his fists as Bucky brought him off. That kind of high living was something he doubted Steve, with his scuffed shoes, and over large, tattered jacket, knew anything about. And yet he’d said no! Not only _no_ , but he’d told him to fuck off!

Bucky dragged a deep breath through his nose, and suddenly cracked a smirk. He stepped forward, Steve flinching in alarm as he gripped his boney shoulder, giving him a rough jostle. “Y’got ya spine then dont’cha sweetheart?” He grinned before releasing his grip. Steve’s head was spinning with shock; he could see it in his eyes. The younger man’s baby blue were wide with horror, flickering from side to side as he tried to process what was happening, tried to adjust to the realization that he wasn’t getting a bullet in his brain. Bucky stepped back, allowing him a little extra room as he drank in Steve for on moment longer. “I like you Steve…” He murmured thoughtfully, almost to himself. Steve, still reeling from shock looked up at him, eye’s wide, confusion drawing his expression tight. Their eyes met for a just a moment before Bucky turned easily on his heel. “Y’ever interested in livin’ good for a night, look me up.” He said, tossing a glance over his shoulder, Bucky dropped a quick wink before strolling on down the street. “See ya Stevie, keep that mouth’a yours in check.”

As the mob boss’s son disappeared down the street, Steve suddenly felt his stomach plunge sickly. All the fear and having faced almost certain death suddenly washed over him in nauseous waves, taking his knees out as he slumped against the nearest building for support. Bucky could have killed him…and all the sudden; Steve had to wonder why he hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t like to get his hands dirty, maybe Bucky didn’t have the stomach for it. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who thought of anyone other than himself…and maybe Steve was still going to get knocked off by one of the mob’s goons later, but for now, he was alive. Even after scraping a little too close with the son of one of the most dangerous men on the east coast, he was alive.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sexual frustration. That was _all_ it was. Bucky had been thoroughly looking forward to pounding Steve’s sweet little ass into his mattress when the opportunity had been so rudely yanked from him. _That’s_ why he couldn’t get that stupid brat out of his head. Or maybe it was because he was the first person who hadn’t bowed and scraped over his every whim. Bucky hated to admit it, but the little punk’s audacity had intrigued him. He was used to people being all too happy to do exactly what he wanted. He knew that none of them really _cared_ about him; it was all for his family, but that had never really bothered Bucky. He still got their company didn’t he? He still got to have someone’s warm hands on his body; who gave a fuck if they  _cared_ about him. Still when you’re used to the command of ‘ _jump’_ being met with _‘how high?_ ’ a ‘ _fuck off_ ’ comes as a bit of a rude shock. Now, if he could just find a quick replacement, someone to fuck until he forgot-

"-James."

Bucky startled in his seat, abruptly lifting his chin out of the cupped palm of his hand. His father was staring at him from across the table, his brow drawn, silverware lowered. Catching his mother’s disapproving stare out of the corner of his eye, Bucky straightened his back, his hand dropping to the fork lying besides his breakfast setting.

"Yes sir?" he responded hurriedly, not certain how long his father had been speaking to him. He loved his dad, and despite his messy line of work, he was always good to him, but that didn’t mean that making his father angry was a _wise_ decision. Bucky only hoped that he hadn’t missed anything important while he’d let his mind linger on Steve.

Fortunately, luck seemed to be on his side, and his father’s expression relaxed into a warm, easy smile. The man absently wiped the corner of his mouth with the linen napkin before glancing back up. “Will you help your old man out with some business matters today, Bucko?” George asked, taking a bite of the lightly spicy sausage that had gone along with their breakfast.

After a moment’s thought, Bucky shrugged, giving an absent nod. Distracted enough by the conversation, Bucky was able to get the pretty little blond out of his head long enough to realize how hungry he was. “Yeah, sure,” he responded mildly, spearing a forkful of egg. “What’s the deal?”

"You remember our rather uh...rather cadaverous friend downstairs? Mr. Flintly?” He pressed and Bucky granted him an easy nod, his stomach not at all put off by the memory of the bloodied corpse in their basement.

"I have his list of the others who are selling on our turf. I want you to give them a warning for me. Nothing serious, just a notice that things could get ugly for them if they don’t find themselves a new line of business. Besides, it’s good for our people to see you. They need to know that you’re one of us, after all."

" _Gentlemen_ ," Mrs. Barnes imposed, glancing between her husband and son. "if you would; no work matters at the table."

Of course, the word of Mrs. Barnes was final. Mr. Barnes suppressed a smile, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek. “Of course darling,” he said warmly, before dropping Bucky a quick wink. “I’ll get you the list after breakfast.”

-.-

Bucky wasn’t certain why this was necessary. It was obvious that the people on this list were microscopic compared to his dad. They weren’t starting empires, they weren’t hoarding clients. They were little clusters, families, and individuals looking to scrape together enough extra money to get by. There was no way any one of them posed a threat, but he knew his father’s policy. If you let something slide, if you went easy on even _one_ person, suddenly _, no one_ feared you. If his father allowed these little operations to thrive under his feet, bigger ones would try and wedge their way in, and that’s when their leniency would cause them trouble.

Bucky huffed an agitated sigh. When he’d been told he’d be helping with business matters, he’d been hope for a little more action, a little more adrenalin and blood. As it was, he’d spent the day knocking on doors and spooking a few poor people. Not exactly a glamorous task. But he had worked his way across Brooklyn, checking off names as he went, and was down to his last stop. The Rogers.

The distressed, rambling building was probably home to a handful of families, packed into two or three room suits and calling it ‘adequate living conditions.’ Bucky wrinkled his nose. It looked distasteful, and he much preferred his family’s large, sprawling mansion. Bucky’s private room alone could have probably fit the entirety of one of the cramped little suits.

Still, pity wasn’t an emotion that had been encouraged in Bucky’s development, and all he felt for the residence of the shambled little apartment was a vague disinterest. They were a name to check off his list, and the sooner he got done, the sooner he could focus on finding someone to replace the pretty little blond that still haunted his thoughts.

Bucky picked his way up the creaking steps, the uneven boards traitorous, and untrustworthy. For fuck’s sake, even the _stairs_ were useless! Muttering under his breath, Bucky stepped forward, and cracked his knuckles against the door. The timber shuddered on its frame, sending a faint cloud of dust spilling from between the wood planks. After a heavy moment, Bucky set his jaw, pounding again with his fist. He didn’t have time for this shit.

The hurried tumble of footfalls met Bucky’s ear and the door was suddenly yanked open. A tall, lanky man stood braced in the doorframe. He had greying blond hair and a covering of unkempt stubble along his jaw. His cheeks were gaunt, eyes a little hollow. He was just like the others, poor, and desperate, and Bucky didn’t have time for it. Still, he lifted his chin, suddenly exuding a regal confidence and superiority.

"Hi Mr. Rogers," He greeted, picturing in his mind the way his father held himself, the way he smile, and stared men down as though they were his next meal. "Bucky Barnes; I’ve got a message for you."

At the sound of his family name, Bucky watched with delight at the color drain from the man’s face. His eye’s widened, looking suddenly sick, but he kept his shoulders squared, back straight. Even facing a Barnes, he kept his dignity in tact, and the gesture stirred an uncertain spark of familiarity in the pit of Bucky’s stomach.

" _Look_ ," Bucky continued, his voice low, and predatory as he moved forward, disregarding the older man’s personal space. "I’m not here to cause trouble… _today_ …I’m here, because my father’s a real decent guy, and he wanted to give you a bit of a warning before people started dying."

Mr. Rogers inhaled deeply, steadying himself with a touch to the doorframe. “I don’t know what you mean…” He breathed softly, and at the denial Bucky felt a thrill of excitement. _Now_ he could have a little fun!

Lunging like a rabid dog, Bucky, gripped the front of Mr. Rogers’ shirt, shoving the wiry man back through the doorframe.  With a vicious wrench, he pulled him around, and slammed him against the interior wall with a cry, and a _crunch_ of plaster. “You think we don’t know about your little side business, _Joseph_?” He spat, slamming his forearm against the man’s throat, and watching with a thrill as his eyes widened in terror. “This is _our_ neighborhood, you sell here, you’re going up against _us_ directly. Now, my dad was being real charitable by sending _me_ here instead of a hit man. _Take the hint_ , and find a different market.” Bucky snarled, leaning close enough to smell the fear, trying to mimic the look of chilling brutality he saw in his father’s eyes. He held him there for just a moment longer, watching at the man struggled to breath. Once he was sure his message had been received, he wrenched back, allowing Mr. Roger’s to drop forward. The man dragged in a deep breath before it was tore from him in a deep, throaty cough. His hand automatically moved to his bruised throat, rubbing and massaging mechanically as he gasped for air.

"We-" He choked, coughing deeply. "Have payments, soon- need- the extra money…" The man dragged in a rattle breath, rubbing his neck. "Give me a little time…" He breathed, looking up to meet Bucky’s gaze. "A few more months, and I’ll have work. I can drop the operation; god knows I’ve wanted too. This wasn’t a compromise I was comfortable making…but I did what I had to to take care of my family…"

Bucky heaved a sigh, his forearm tingling from the impact of slamming Mr. Rogers into the wall. “Look, I don’t _care_ if selling makes you squeamish, you’re still getting you’re feet in our market.” Bucky stepped close, once again disregarding his personal space, his breath hot on the man’s face. “My suggestion? _Sell a kidney_. Sell an eye, I _don’t_ care. But believe me when I tell you that having you’re pretty little place burned to the ground along with you, everything you own, and everyone you love, is a _hell_ of a lot worse than having an empty stomach.” Bucky spat, before the vicious sneer eased into a pandering smirk. “Think on it.” He suggested, tugging straight the wrinkles in the front of his shirt. “Don’t make me come back with friends.”

Smirking to himself, his body tingling with exhilaration, Bucky turned to stroll out the door. He always liked hearing the aftermath of what he left behind him. Some people just broke down sobbing, others muttered cursed under the breath before inevitably staggering into something, too shocked to process. This time, Bucky heard a faint scuffle down the crooked hallway to his back, and a woman’s voice uttering a soft warning. Out of pure curiosity, Bucky tossed one last glance over his shoulder, and stopped dead.

The first thing his noticed was the wife. The woman stood in the hallways with her back to Bucky, head turned to look at her husband, who was supporting himself against an end table in the entrance. She had ash blond hair and a drawn face, her soft blue eyes lined with exhaustion. But the woman didn’t interest him; it was what was behind her that caught his attention.

The boy from yesterday, _Steve_ , stared over his mother’s shoulder in horror. His bright blue eyes were fixed on Bucky, wide, and piercing, his lips parted ever so slightly in an expression of shock. The fragile young man’s feet were rooted to the floor, still, despite his mothers attempt to hurry him back out of sight. For a just a moment, their eyes locked, and a prickle ran up the back of Bucky’s neck, his skin crawling under the boy’s searing stare. Steve...Steve  _Rogers_.

Abruptly, Bucky snapped out of his daze. He wrenched his gaze away from Steve and whipped around, slamming the door on his heels.

-.-

Steve stumbled back a pace, numb, and shocked. He felt as though his heart was trying to force its way out his throat. His head was spinning and a sick clamminess had crept across his skin, his brow suddenly damp with a freezing sweat. This was _his_ fault. The mob was coming after his family because of _him_ , because he hadn’t kept his head low…because he hadn’t kept his mouth shut…

His mother’s touch startled him, her hand touching against his heaving chest, trying to gently guide him back. “Steve,” She breathed earnestly, her gaze flickering between her son, and her gasping husband, “go back to your room, I’ll call you in a moment, just-”

Before his mother had even had time to finish, something snapped in Steve. He looked up, his eyes meeting his mother’s long enough to flash with recklessness before the slender boy suddenly bolted past her. He slipped past his father, shoulder glancing roughly against the doorframe as he burst through the unlatched door, and out into the street.

-.-

" _Hey_!"

Bucky’s footfalls faltered, and he dragged to a stop. He had already made it the better part of a block; his eyes low, head spinning. He was still trying to process the connection, still trying to settle the fact that the boy he’d been pursuing was the son of a man his father wanted killed. Turning, Bucky stared down along the length of the street, his brow drawn into a frown.

Steve was pelting, full tilt, after him. His narrow chest heaving with effort, his expression twisted with shock and determination. The older boy turned slowly, his movements dragging at him as he tried to shake himself out of his daze.

The blond stumbled to a stop just shy of him, breathing heavily even just from running the short distance. Like Bucky, the shock was beginning to move through his system, and a look of bitter disgust was creeping across his face. Dragging in a rattling breath, Steve straightened, his jaw set, eyes glinting with fury. “Look,” he hissed, still gasping for air. “I _know_ I pissed you off, I _know_ I’m dead already, so just shoot me, or- or pull off my fingernails or whatever you sick bastards do, but leave my family out of it.” Steve’s voice wavered, but he swallowed it back. He wasn’t scared for himself; he wasn’t even upset that he was going to die. He was _pissed_  that this privileged asshole was targeting his family as revenge for rejecting him. The thought boiled inside him, and Steve felt his choler rising. Suddenly reckless with fury, Steve stepped forward, moving into Bucky’s space and setting his jaw, eyes flashing with rage. “Don’t worry, I get it, the world revolves around you.” He spat, half tempted to shove Bucky, “but just because _you_ didn’t get something you want doesn’t mean you get to take it out on innocent people, you _arrogant_ , conceited, self-centered _bastard_ -”

" _Hey_!" Bucky snapped, his cheeks flushing with anger. The spark he’d seen in Steve was suddenly not so alluring when it had billowed into an inferno. But Steve wasn’t backing down. If he was going out, he was dragging Bucky Barnes down a few rungs on his way out.

"At this point, I don’t even _care_ what you do, leave my family out of it and just shoot me!" He challenged, jabbing a boney finger between the plates of Bucky’s sternum. "Go ahead you _spineless coward_!" He spat, his hands dropping to his sides, balled into quivering fists, as he jutted out his chin. "Go ahead! Shoot me, you fucking _useless_ , scum-face son of a bitch!"

"Hey- Hey, _Hey_! _Kid_! Would you shut your freakin’ trap and _listen_ for a sec?" Bucky snapped, forcing Steve out of his personal space with a vicious shove. He stopped, teeth bared, suppressing the violent urge to hurt Steve for speaking to him like that. That’s what his dad would have done at least. But Bucky couldn’t bring himself too, and maybe that was a weakness, but he knew he wasn’t going to pull the switchblade in his pocket. He wasn’t going to hurt Steve just now, even if he _should_ know better than to mouth off like that to him.

A sigh hissed between Bucky’s teeth, and the older boy reached up pinching the bridge of his nose with a scowl. “ _Look_ ,” he growled. “I didn’t know this was your place, I didn’t know these were your folks. Yer on the fucking list, you get yer fucking warning. Capiche?”

The expression of rage on Steve’s face faltered, wavering before crumbling to confusion, and guarded suspicion. “The list?” He asked softly, a quite rasp lacing his words from yelling.

"Yeah," Bucky said shortly, digging the crumpled page from his pocket and flashing it in Steve’s direction before stuffing it away again. "The list. People who are selling drugs in our neighborhood. Doesn’t matter how small. Dad’s territorial, and no one sells on his turf. I watched him knife a guy just yesterday for ignoring a warning. Do yourself a favor and make sure yer folks don’t do the same thing okay, doll face?" The brunet pressed, feeling the anger seeping from his system, although Steve words had left an unexpected sting.

Steve’s eyes dropped to the pavement, his brow drawing into a deep frown, his eyes darting back and for as the information sunk in. “But-” he started uncertainly, before trailing off again, his lips moving ever so slightly as he mouthed the words back to himself. Suddenly, his head snapped up, and he stared Bucky directly in the eyes, a gesture Bucky found unfamiliar, and deeply unsettling. “My dad doesn’t have work.” He said simply, continuing before Bucky could snort and dismiss it as ‘ _not his problem_.’ “I have to stay in school, my mom’s the only one in our family with an income. She works at the hospital three shifts a week, and it’s not enough. Dad didn’t want to sell, but it’s the only way we can make the payments. We don’t have the option to stop!”

Bucky gave an agitated wave, feeling something twisting in the pit of his stomach. “Look sugar, I really _don’t_ care,” he said quickly, trying to quell the weirdly uncomfortable sensation in his gut. He felt guilt so seldom, that Bucky couldn’t even recognize it, and he tried to dismiss it as a knot of residual anger, or maybe even something he ate.

"You don’t _care_?" Steve demanded, frustrated, but not surprised. "You don’t care that your family is going to kill _three_ innocent people over something they can’t help?"

"Yes-"

" _No_!" Steve snapped, lunging forward as Bucky tried to turn away, the guilt rising in his throat. "That’s _not_ true. Or it _shouldn’t_ be. You have influence- talk to you dad! Get him to change his mind."

A bitter peel of laugher rang out from Bucky’s throat and the older boy turned on Steve once again. “D’you _hear_ how _stupid_ you sound right now?” Bucky demanded, shaking his head incredulously. “My dad doesn’t  _change_  his  _mind._  I can’t  _do_  anything about the decisions he makes!”

Steve hesitated, conflicted for just a moment before he fixed Bucky with another one of those unnerving stares. “Ever tried?” He challenged, and call Bucky crazy, but it almost sounded like a dare.

He stared at the kid, dumbfounded, completely blown away. Steve would never cease to amaze him. He rejected Bucky, stood up to him,  _dared_  to insult him, and outright challenged Bucky! He was baffling! And the stupidest thing was that the more he baffled Bucky, the more he intrigued him; and the more he intrigued him, the more he _wanted_ him.

As though realize he’d let a chink in his armor show, Bucky straightened up, assuming a sudden smirk. “Okay Stevie,” He purred. “Let’s say I _can_. I can’t change dad’s mind, but let’s say I talk him into givin’ you extra time, say, six months. I’ll convince my father to leave you, your family, and your quaint, little, bill-paying operation alone for a full extra six months, if-”

Steve stomach plunged. “If?” He repeated, his throat tightening with fear.

Bucky flashed him a predatory smirk. “ _if_ …you let me take you out for a drink.”

Steve froze in his tracks, the dread that had been twisting in his gut suddenly going still. “A _drink_.” He repeated softly, the offer settling over his skin, seeping slowly into his mind. He’d expected more. He’d expected _worse_. He’d expected to have to give himself away to buy his family’s safety. _A drink_ … Slowly, the blond lifted his head; meeting Bucky’s gaze with a small frown. “I’m seventeen.” He confided, confusion touching the corners of his eyes.

Bucky shrugged. “And I’m twenty. Technically, _neither_ of us are supposed to be drinking. Fortunately for you-” he added, his lips curling up into a smirk. “What I say goes around here, and if I want to buy you a drink, I will.”

Somehow, Steve didn’t doubt that. No one would risk denying the son of George Barnes _anything_ …well, no one except stupid punks like him.

Steve dragged a steadying breath through his teeth. This was a terrible idea. It was dangerous, and flat out, fucking _insane_. He was walking right into the lion’s den. He was strolling into some shady establishment on the arm of James Buchannan Barnes, and trusting him not to use the home field to his advantage. In short, he was going in, completely unprotected, with a dangerous, spoiled, entitled mobster and trusting him with his safety. But to buy his family a little extra time, he was willing to risk it.

The younger man thrust out a hand. “Deal.” He said tightly, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Bucky’s face bloomed into a grin, and he reached out, gripping Steve’s fragile hand and tugging him in a step closer. “ _Deal_ ,” he purred, beaming at him. “Meet me at the corner of 32nd, tomorrow night at eight. Wear somethin’ pretty, and don’t tell yer folks, okay?”

Steve pursed his lips, shrugging casually to cover his nervousness. “Nah, why would I?” He said with a breathless chuckle. “I’m just going to a bar I’m too young to be in with a older, arguably _stronger_ guy who’s expressed an interest in fucking me in the past who, _oh yeah_ , also _happens_ to be the son of the guy who plans on killing my family…nothing to tell.”

Again, Bucky couldn’t suppress a grin, and he released Steve’s hand with a low chuckle. “If you wanna put it that way…” He murmured with a smirk, stepping back a pace. “You’ll be there?”

Despite his casual air, Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until this was over. He was going to be restless, and anxious, jumping at shadows, and jerking awake from nightmare of what could all too easily happen. He was going to be seeking refuge in his room, for fear if his parents reading the anxiousness in his expression. And in the end, he was going to do it anyways.

"I’ll be there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let me know what you think. Also, at this point in the story, I'm not against suggestions, so if you have something you think you'd like to see, drop a comment. <3


	3. Chapter 3

Slipping out to meet Bucky had been simple. All he’d had to do was convince his parents he was sick, which turned out to be no challenge at all. He _felt_ sick. He felt nauseous, and a cold; clammy sweat broke out all over his body every time his mind wandered to what he had to do that night. He was in _way_ over his head, and he was going to pay dearly for it. But maybe if _he_ did, then his family wouldn’t have to.

At six o’clock, right after he’d gagged down one or two mouthfuls of dinner, Steve murmured that he still wasn’t feeling well, and went up to his room. His parents swallowed the lie with ease. He hadn’t been himself all day, and rest was the only medicine they could afford. Once upstairs, Steve had paced the floor, wracking his brain for how he could possibly prepare himself for being sacrificed to the whims of a cruel, selfish Mafioso. As he dressed, he stuffed his pockets with bits of anything that might come in handy. His phone. A pocket knife. Enough cash to get him a cab, although that, he’d had to scrape the bottom of his tin for. But if things got bad, Steve didn’t want to be stuck somewhere with no quick means of escape.

Per Bucky’s request, he dressed in his nicest jeans, and the _least_ distressed of his shirts. His clothing had all been meticulously cared for, and tended, but there was only so much a bit of fabric could take. Most of his shirts were faded, worn, and short in the waist. Maybe Steve’s shoulders hadn’t broadened out much since he was a child, be he _had_ grown taller, and replacing his clothing often wasn’t an option. Still, Steve had one shirt whose dark blue dye had survived amazingly well, and that still covered his hipbones when he raised his arms.

At the sound of his mother’s footsteps in the hallway, Steve had slipped into bed, flicking off the light and curling under the covers. He hated deceiving her, hated lying to _either_ of his parents, but it was for their benefit…it was all for them. After his mother and father had both looked in on him, Steve’s eyes flashed open, and he stole out of bed. Checking for his phone, money, and knife, the young man steeled his nerves, and pried open his first story window, slipping into the dark.

-.-

Clouds hung low in the sky, and Steve stood on the corner of 32nd, feverishly checking his watch, and jumping at shadows. The night was hot, and muggy, pressing in on him from all sides. He forced down a stiff swallow, letting his eyes close, letting himself focus on breathing. “Breath…” Steve murmured softly, dark brown lashes clinging to the sweat on his skin. “…Breath…”

Suddenly, light pooled over his lids, and Steve’s eyes flashed open, his heart leaping into his throat. The glaring circles of light momentarily blinded Steve and he grimaced, raising an arm to block it out. The sounds of gravel crunching under heavy tires met his ears, and the light suddenly dimmed.

Steve blinked rapidly, adrenaline surging through his body. A sleek, black car had pulled along the curb, it’s deep, healthy purr going abruptly silent as the engine disengaged.

 _Bucky_.

Swallowing back the knot that was beginning to form in his throat, Steve approached the curb, forcing his breathing to remain even. The car door opened with a _pop_ , and Bucky stepped out, grinning. His figure was impeccable, dressed in tight, black jeans and a white button up that was _just_ rumpled enough to look like he didn’t care. The cuffs were roll at the elbows, and his top two buttons had been undone, giving Steve a cheeky glimpse of the sharp cut of his collarbone. His smooth, dark chestnut hair was messy as always, ruffled, but pushed back, with a few strands escaping to brush his cheekbones. He was _gorgeous_ , obnoxiously so. Looking at him, perfectly stunning in the dim light of the street lamp, Steve felt a tug in the pit of his stomach. The sensation sent a prickle up his spine but Steve swallowed it back. It was _probably_ just jealousy anyways.

"Hey sugar," Bucky grinned, strolling over to close the distance between them. "You tidied up nice."

Steve felt heat rise in his cheeks. He didn’t usually bother to think about his appearance, it never did him a lick of good anyhow. Still, as much as the spoiled, entitled ass drove him up a wall, he looked fucking _good_ , and Steve felt grimy, and small in comparison. The best he had, Bucky wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Clothing Steve would kill for got tossed out in the Barnes household. He wasn’t sure if it was injustice, or inadequacy that caused the blood to rush to his face.

Rather than comment on his appearance though, Steve lifted his chin, meeting Bucky’s gaze evenly. He held the silence for half a moment before letting out a quite breath and stepping forward. “Alright Bucky, I’m here. Let’s just get this done.” He said softly, hands in his pockets; heart resigned to whatever fate awaited him.

-.-

Bucky glanced over, his gaze landing on Steve’s pale outline in the dim car. The street lamps spilled patched of yellow light across the side of his face as they drove past, highlighting his cheekbones, and the delicate set of his lips. He stared straight ahead, silent, and closed, with his hands in his lap and his chin lifted. Bucky tore his eyes away, wetting his mouth nervously as he looked ahead at the road.

"Y’look a little sick Stevie," he smirked, tossing him another quick glance. "You alright?"

Steve hesitated, shifting a little in his seat before huffing a sigh. “Could be worse, considering I’m being blackmailed into a going drinking with a guy who’s probably gonna kill me.” He replied in a low tone, his voice bitter, and scathing.

Bucky’s head whipped around, confusion hitting him like a splash of cold water. “ _Fuck Steve_ ,” he scoffed, shaking his head incredulously. “You this angry and pessimistic on every date?”

To this, Steve managed a snort, his eyebrows lifting sarcastically. “Only when my dates are entitled, narcissistic assholes who think ‘ _hey sugar’_ is a good opening line.” Through the dimness, Bucky could have sworn Steve was smirking! This little _brat_ was _smirking_ at him! On one hand, it was infuriating, because no one before Steve had ever spoken to him like that! On the other hand…Bucky thought it was the first time he’d seen Steve’s expression even remotely resemble a smile, and he hated that he had to wrench his gaze away so that he could drive.

"For your information, that line works like a charm on anyone who isn’t a frigid, shit-talking little _bitch_."

Steve’s gaze drifted over, slow, and unimpressed. “Oh no.” He murmured in a deadpan tone, rolling his eyes ahead again. “I can’t imagine how I’ll _ever_ be able to go on after such a crippling emotional blow.”

"Come on!" Bucky scoffed with a grin, “You can’t tell me you’re not at least a _little_ stung!”

“Oh sure,” Steve countered easily, giving a patronizing little nod. “That stale line is going to haunt me till my deathbed.”

Bucky scowled, flexing his fingers on the wheel, but his stomach had come alive with a weird, warm fluttering. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Steve crack a tiny smile, and his heart gave a funny little stutter in his chest. Whatever this was, right here, in the dark car with just the two of them, Bucky _liked_ it.

And then it was gone.

The car slide to a stop, gliding over the pavement to the front door of a flashy, risqué club, and Steve’s moment of softness was suddenly molded with steel. He took in to club with a sweep of his gaze, his eyes growing dark, and suspicious. The tentative smile fell away and he was suddenly boxed back into his walls, protecting himself…from Bucky…He retreated back to cold, closed state, where he was safe, maybe not from the physical harm, but just maybe from the emotional.

Bucky hesitated, worrying at his lower lips with his teeth. He wanted…whatever the fuck that just was, back. He wanted to talk to Steve, put him at ease, see if he could maybe, god forbid, get him to smile. But that wasn’t Bucky’s area. _Feelings_ weren’t Bucky’s area. Bucky’s area was loud music, alcohol, greedy hands and hot mouths. It was getting what he wanted at the snap of his fingers, not trying to tenderly peel back Steve’s protective layers, and get him to actually _like_ him. When it came to gentleness, and emotion, Bucky was _way_ out of his depth. So, like Steve, Bucky suddenly retreated back to what was safe, and familiar, what had always brought him the closest thing to happiness he’d had in the past. Getting what he wanted.

Spooked by his own confusing laps of character, Bucky pushing himself out of the car, distancing himself from Steve. He slammed the door behind him, chest tight, mind scattered as he tried to reassemble his personality from the shards. Who he had been back there, jabbing lightheartedly at Steve, smiling, feeling that warmth in his stomach, that _wasn’t_ him. That was someone else. Someone weaker, _softer_ , someone who would never rule an empire, who would never have thousands scraping over his every whim. _That’s_ who Bucky was, or who he was _going_ to be, even if it meant choking the life out of the other him who had been _so_ happy, even if just for a moment.

Bucky flashed a quick glance over his shoulder, seeing Steve disentangling himself from the seatbelt and slipping out. “Get over here, now.” Bucky snapped, his voice more vicious than he had intended, and as Steve’s head jerked up, he wished he’d have spoken softer. Steve’s expression phased from distrust, to outright alarm. He looked wary, and scared, trying to mask his fear with a layer of bitter pessimism.

He closed the car door with a click, walking around the front and drawing to a stop beside Bucky, his teeth set, eyes glinting mutinously. For a moment, their gazes locked, both aggressively bitter for letting their defenses slip, both silently hopeful that maybe they didn’t _have_ to go back.

Bucky broke the intensity of the stare, suddenly flashing Steve a grin. “Oh c’mon Stevie, let have a little fun, huh?” He beamed, suddenly pulling Steve in against his side, his arm around the top of his shoulders, trapping him against his side.

Steve drew in a tight gasp through his clenched teeth, heart stuttering as he was suddenly jarred against Bucky’s ribs. His arm was firm, and muscular around him, and the sick anxiousness that had plagued him all day suddenly flooded his chest. His heels caught on the pavement, unconsciously resisting Bucky as he dragged him towards the club, willing or not. Whatever moment of easy comfort had passed between them a few minutes ago, it _hadn’t_ been real. _This_ was the real Bucky, the Bucky who was flirtatious, and spoiled, vicious, cruel, and willing to hurt Steve for not doing what he asked. This was the Bucky Steve _knew_ to be afraid of, the Bucky he could never, _ever_ trust.

-.- 

"Its somethin’ else isn’t it, Sugar?"

Steve stared at his surrounding, crushed on all sides by strangers swaying to the music; drinking, laughing, smoking. The music thudded through his body, the base rattling his skull. After too long in a place like this, Steve wouldn’t have been surprised to find himself _entirely_ deaf, rather than just _partially_.

The young man dragged a hissing breath between his teeth before swallowing tightly. “Yeah…” He murmured, his voice lost even to his own ears. “It’s something else…”

But Bucky, hardly listening to Steve, had already moved on. “Come on,” he shouted over the music, grinning from ear to ear as he looked down at the smaller boy through his lashes. “Lets start with that drink.”

Even after only a moment. Steve could see that this was Bucky’s world. He shifted to the music, eyes gleaming with excitement as he drank in the flashing lights and the heavy scent of tainted smoke. As a girl brushed by, she slid a manicured hand down his chest, and Bucky’s grin widened, following her with his eyes as she passed. This was Bucky’s world, and Steve was a fish out of water. His gaze darted nervously at every loud shout or burst of laughter, the smell of the smoke turned his stomach. He saw a threat in everyone he passed, and startled sharply when a stranger’s hand slid over his ass.

Bucky glanced down as Steve lurched in alarm, jaw locked, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. A sympathetic laugh escaped the older boy’s lips and he tugged Steve closer, bending to tuck his mouth against his ear. “ _Relax Stevie_ , nothin’s gonna happen to you, okay?” He pressed, lips curling into a smirk as he felt Steve bristle under his arm.

"They’re  _touching_  me.” He hissed, and Bucky inclined his head to hear him over the thumping base of the music.

The brunet shrugged, pulling him along towards the bar. “You’re in a club, people are _gonna_ touch you. But if you see who it is, I’ll tell em to lay off you, alright? They won't bother you after that.”

Steve hesitated, but graced Bucky with a tight nod. He wasn’t sure why Bucky would bother, especially since he seemed to have no problem with strangers feeling up  _him_ , but the reassurance was almost comforting. The slender blond let Bucky lead him along to the bar, the crowd thinning out enough that Steve could move more freely. It was a relief not to be pressed shoulder to shoulder with a group of grabby strangers, and he felt as though he could breath a little easier.

Lifting his arm from around Steve for the first time since they entered, Bucky sprawled out on one if the stools, legs spread, arms draped across the bar. He looked completely at ease, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Bucky gestured to the stool next to him with a smirk. “C’mon and have a seat,” he said easily, and although it was framed as an offer, Steve saw it for what it was: _an order._

Still wired with adrenaline, Steve hauled himself on to the stool. He felt laughably small, sitting at the bar, his feet dangling a full 11 inches off the ground. Being underaged in a place like this was bad enough, did he have to look like a fucking fifteen year old on top of it?

Bucky studied him with a smirk, eyelids lowered, just the tip of his damp, pink tongue resting between his lips. Steve looked adorable sitting there, all stiff shoulders and wide eyes. His floppy golden blond hair was tinted red by the lighting, and he kept worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth, chewing it raw. Bucky couldn’t help but find his behavior adorable, but that the same time, that little, unfamiliar niggle of guilt still squirmed in his stomach. Steve was clearly uncomfortable. 

Sitting forward, Bucky reached out, nudging Steve’s knee with a grin. “Alright doll face, pick what you want, I’ll get it for you.” He said, flicking his hand towards the stocked shelves, and Steve faltered. Alcohol wasn’t a luxury his family could afford, and Steve seldom spent any time around bars. The labels and various types might as well have been written in Greek. 

“I’m not familiar,” Steve started, still chewing at his lip as he squinted at the shelf. “Besides, can’t read it from here, my eyes aren’t that great.” 

“Y’want me to pick for you babydoll?”

Steve’s nose wrinkled at the constant endearments, but he bit his tongue. That was one thing he didn’t have to pick a fight over. It was obnoxious as fuck, but it wasn’t hurting him. “Guess you’d better,” He agreed reluctantly, shifting himself around to face the bar. 

Bucky granted him a nod, that infuriating smirk still lingering on the corners of his lips. Turning, he waved the bartender over. “Two scotches, one for me, one for my friend.” He said, his gaze flickering over to Steve. “On the Barnes' tab.” The bartender followed Bucky’s gaze, his eyes landing on Steve. He could feel the man scrutinizing him, taking in his appearance. It was obvious to everyone here that Steve shouldn’t even be in this club. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Too young. Too nervous. Too guarded.

Slowly, Bucky eased forward, his forearms resting on the bar as he leaned close. “There a problem?” He asked, his voice low, an underlying threat in his tone, and the bartender started.

“No sir.” He blurted sharply, “Mr. Barnes, No trouble, I’ll-”

Bucky nodded, sinking back and flashing Steve an  _‘i-told-you-so’_ grin. He crossed one leg over the other, spreading his hands in an open gesture. “One of the perks of being me.” Bucky drawled, nodding once to the bartender as the drinks were slid over to them. 

Steve received the scotch, unconsciously mimicking how Bucky held his glass. He swirled the amber liquid, taking an experimental slip.  The dry scotch was woody, and abrasive on his tongue, leaving a faint, biting aftertaste as he swallowed. It was surprising, and Steve hesitated to take another sip, but the drink slid, warm, down his throat, and he lifted the glass to his lips again.

“Good?” Bucky pressed, taking a sip of his own drink, before letting it down on the bar with a  _clack_. 

Steve paused, swallowing again before looking up, a hint of surprise lingering in his gaze. “Yeah, actually…Feels warm, it’s…kind of nice.” 

Bucky’s smirked phased into a grin and he dropped Steve a quick wink. “Now is this so awful?” He pressed, his tongue sliding out to wet his lips. “Is it _really_ the worst way to spend an evening?” The slender blond snorted, almost smiling as he sipped at his drink, but didn’t give Bucky the satisfaction of an answer. And Bucky would have pressed, had another distraction not caught his short-lived attention.

A man, nearly lost in the throng of people, suddenly locked gazed with Bucky. A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth and he moved forward, pushing through the crowd as through they were nothing. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a rough, even stubble across his strong jawline. There was something decidedly unnerving in his dark, deep-set eyes, and Steve felt himself growing suddenly anxious again.

"Who’s tall, dark, and creepy?" Steve asked in an undertone, drinking in Bucky’s expression as his brow drew into a frown. He looked almost as uneasy as Steve.

His brow furrowed deeper, and Bucky wrinkled his nose with a scowl of disgust. “An ex…” He grumbled, taking a stiff swallow of his scotch. “I’d have had him bumped off a while ago, but he did my dad some expensive favors…which means he’s practically immune…in short, he’s an asshole.”

"It’s a wonder you two don’t get along." Steve retorted dryly, but Bucky had only a brief moment to throw Steve an ugly glare before the man closed the distance between them, drawing to a stop in front of Bucky. Closer now, Steve got a better impression of the man. He was older than Bucky; he must have been nearly thirty, and his stubble was touched with a premature silver-fox gray. Whatever made him so unnerving was not only in his eyes, but in the way he held himself, with a kind of self-assured confidence that he could get away with anything he liked…In that regard, he was similar to Bucky, but there was something malicious about him that even Bucky lacked.

"Hello James," The man said evenly, his voice deep and dripping with poison. "Isn’t it a little past your bed time?"

Bucky lifted his chin; suddenly smirking with all the insincerity he could manage. “What time I go to bed, who I take with me, and what I do there isn’t really your business anymore is it Rumlow?”

"Maybe not-" Rumlow responded tightly, about to continue when Bucky cut over him.

"Why? Missing when it was?" He asked, arching an eyebrow with a scathing smirk. He settled back against the bar, teasingly wetting his mouth with a slid of his tongue, resting the rim of his glass against the swell of his lower lip.

Rumlow’s expression suddenly curled with disgust. “Doubtful.” He spat. “I wouldn’t take you back if you got on your knees and _begged_ me.” Bucky made a sympathetic tsk with his tongue, flushed, damp lips pursing in a patronizing pout. “Besides,” Rumlow growled. “Why would I waste my time pining over your sorry ass when I can have anyone I want?”

"Oh, you mean anyone with low enough standards to take you?"

The corner of Rumlow’s mouth turned up in an ugly smirk, showing more restrain than humor. Rumlow may be practically invulnerable, but he knew better than to hurt the son of George Barnes. No amount of expensive favors would save him if he damaged his associate’s oldest son. Rather than dwell on it though, Rumlow glazed over the comment, and turned his attention to Steve. “Who’s the twink?” He asked, voice rumbling deep in his chest, eyes dragging invasively up Steve’s body.

Until this moment, Steve had been a passive observer, watching Bucky hurl poisoned retorts back at Rumlow’s every word, when he was abruptly yanked from his complacent role. Steve felt his blood warm, flesh creeping as Rumlow drank him in. He felt exposed, like Rumlow was somehow managing to undress him without ever laying a finger on him. Steve could see his mind working, see him envisioning how Steve would fill the role Bucky vacated, how he would look in Rumlow’s bed. The thought made Steve sick.

Bucky reacted to Rumlow’s word. His shoulders stiffened and something dark flashed in his eyes, but he covered it with a complacent smirk. Setting his glass down with a chink, Bucky rose, moving to casually drape an arm around Steve’s tense shoulders. “Friend of mine,” Bucky replied evenly, drawing Steve close.

For a moment, there was no response from Rumlow, he just stared thoughtfully, his tongue resting just behind his teeth. Abruptly, he seemed to make a decision, straighten with a nod. “Hmm. Alright, if he’s just a friend then I’m sure you won’t mind if I borrow him.” Rumlow smirked, moving closer and arching an eyebrow at Steve his tongue brushing his lower lip. “He’s cute, and I’d love to see what his tight little ass feels like around my cock.”

Revulsion suddenly surged through Steve, the temper that Bucky had been on the receiving end of so frequently suddenly flaring at Rumlow. “Forget about it you fucking sick bastard.” He spat, feeling Bucky’s arm tighten around him.

Rumlow faltered, taken aback by the boy’s sharp tongue, before he came back to himself. His brow darkened, and the man moved forward, a glint of suppressed violence in his eyes. “Someone _really_ ought to teach you to be more carful who you mouth off to kid…” He snarled, hands flexing, like he wanted to get them around Steve’s throat, choke him breathless and force him into submission.

Bucky dragged Steve closer, not sure anymore if he was protecting him, or restraining him. “Don’t bother, he’s a lost cause. Besides, ” He drawled, meeting Rumlow’s gaze challengingly, and something shifting inside Bucky. His fingers curled into the material of Steve’s shirt, fingertips pressing into his paper-thin flesh as he trapped him against his side. He stared at Rumlow, his gaze pure, jealous poison. “Steve’s here with me tonight.” The brunet snarled possessively, eyes dark, and cruel. “He’s _mine_ , and I’m not sharing.”

The tension hung heavy in the air for a hot moment longer, before Rumlow cracked a cruel smile. The older man dipped his chin, still smirking as he wet his lips before looking back up to Bucky. “Alright Barnes,” he rumbled, “Keep your little twink. I’ll be seeing you around.”

Steve held frozen until Runlow had turned, and disappeared back through the throng. The second he was out of sight, the slender boy abruptly wrenched himself away from Bucky with a vicious shove.

"Hey!" Bucky protested, looking a little stung as Steve thrust him off. " _Relax_ doll, I was just takin’ care of you!"

Steve whipped around to face him, gaunt face drawn with fury. “ _Don’t_ -” he spat “ _ever_ , say I’m yours again.” A hiss of air escaped Steve’s clenched teeth and he sunk back onto the barstool, feeling nauseous, and weak at the knees. The conversation ricocheted around his mind like an echo, Rumlow’s words setting his skin crawling, Bucky’s flaring a fury inside him. He didn’t care what Bucky wanted from him, or how much control he had over him, but Bucky did _not_ own him.

The brunet was quiet for a moment, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Steve wasn’t even looking at him. His shoulders were hunched forward, eyes fixed straight ahead as he choked down the last swallow if his drink. What the fuck was he supposed to say? ‘ _Sorry’_ wasn’t really in Bucky’s vocabulary. Still, the frigid silence was almost more than he could stand.

"Y’want another drink?" Bucky asked, hoping to casually sweep the incident under the rug.

Slowly, Steve’s gaze shifted over until he was looking at Bucky out of the corner of his eye, mouth still set, body still stiff. “No. Thanks. I’ve had enough.”

Bucky scoffed, smirking as he studied his bitter companion. “Why?” He pressed with a patronizing grin. “Yer Ma and Pa teach you that getting drunk is _bad_?”

"No." Steve responded tightly, his anger not fading as quickly as Bucky would have hoped. "Getting drunk gets you raped and killed in places like this."

Again, Bucky scoffed, sliding to his feet and moving to close the distance between them, his fingers grazing the length if Steve’s spine. “C’mon sweetheart, you know I ain’t gonna let anyone hurt you.”

Steve recoiled from the contact, wheeling around, his teeth bared. “ _You’re_ the one I’m worried about!” He snapped, lashing out like a wounded animal, glaring accusingly up at him.

Bucky froze, his stomach dropping unexpectedly. Steve’s glare was raw, and open, like a wound directly into his soul. Bucky could see straight into him, and all he saw was anger, and fear, and disgust. It hurt more than he was willing to admit. With a jerk, Bucky pulled his hand back, his gaze faltering as he stepped back unsteadily. His chest ached. If words had a physical impact, Bucky felt as though he’d just taken a knife to the heart. Steve didn’t just _dislike_ him. He _loathed_ him. He hated and feared Bucky with _everything_ in him, to him, Bucky was repulsive, and wicked…and he was _afraid_ of him…

Turning, Bucky moved away, not sure where he was going, or why, but his head was pounding, and being near Steve only made it worse. People had hated him before… He was the son of George Barnes, it kind of came with the territory. People hated him the same way they hated his father, so why did it hurt so much knowing Steve was one of them?

For the first time, Steve wondered if maybe he’d been too cruel. He hadn’t ever considered that Bucky, as cold, and self-absorbed as he was, could actually be _hurt_ by Steve’s words. _Angry_? Absolutely, but hurt? As Bucky turned away Steve realized that he actually _did_ look upset. He looked stunned, eyes betraying a poorly concealed expression of pain…it was bizarre, and surreal, but Steve actually felt guilty. What he’d said was true. He _was_ afraid that Bucky would take advantage of him. He _was_ afraid that he’d kill him, or have him killed for talking shit one too many times…but spitting that in his face…maybe Steve had become the aggressor.

The boy ran his tongue over his lower lips, which he’d chewed raw over the course of the night. He suddenly found himself in the bizarre situation of needing to ask Bucky’s forgiveness. Not for mouthing off, for standing up for himself when Bucky got too cruel or invasive, but for lashing out when, _just maybe_ , Bucky _hadn’t_ deserved it.

Steeling his nerve, and choking down his pride, Steve turned, and realized he was alone.

Alone was a loose term. He was _surrounded_. Surrounded by threatening, impersonal strangers, and Bucky was gone. When he’d seen him turn away, it hadn’t actually occurred to him that he was _leaving_. He’d thought…he didn’t know…all he knew was Bucky was gone. He was stranded. The meager cash he’d brought would _never_ get him all the way back home, not with as far as Bucky had driven him. He had no transport, no defense, and no allies. Bucky was gone, and Steve was alone.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It suddenly occurred to Steve that he was royally fucked. Bucky may not have been a _good_ ally, but he was the only one he’d had. Now, he was alone, surrounded by the dangerous kind of people who were comfortable mingling with the mob. His head was pounding, the heavy, thumping base of the music reverberating through his skull, dimmed only by the rush of his own blood in his ears. The seventeen year old’s head snapped around, eyes searching desperately for any trace of Bucky in the crowd.

A glimpse of dark chestnut hair flitted at the edge of his vision, and Steve wheeled around, heart racing. “Bucky?” He called, but stumbled, drawing up short at the edge of the crowd. Everything in Steve wanted to stay out of the mob of people, stay where he could see, and breath, but he was quickly loosing sight of the one hope he had of getting out of here. “Bucky!” Steve yelled, trying once more to draw his attention, before he accepted his fate. Swallow back the knot of anxiety in the throat, Steve drew in a shaking breath, and plunged forward.

He suddenly found himself crushed on all sides. Steve was jostled against dancers, men who flashed him predatory grin, women who snagged at his clothing, dragging him closer. Wrenching the hem of his shirt out of a manicured fist, Steve lunged after Bucky, lurching, and craning to keep him in sight. “Bucky, _wait_!” Steve yelled, his voice swallowed by the blasting music and the roar of voices that reverberated around the room.

Steve felt panic rising in his chest. He could feel his lungs growing tight, his head spinning as someone exhaled a cloud of bluish smoke into his face. Steve lurched back, a wet, rattling cough tearing from his throat as he tried to expel the foul smoke from his lungs. Stumbling, Steve blinked back the tears that the acrid smoke had brought to his eyes, head whipping around as he tried to relocate Bucky. He had to focus. He had to get himself under control or he was going to pass out.

Swallowing hard around the burning sensation in his throat, Steve locked his gaze on the retreating figure, and bolted. Maybe for the first time, his size worked to his advantage. Steve ducked and weaved trough the crowd of strangers, twisting away when a hand snagged at his belt. He was getting closer. Keeping his focus, Steve dodged around a tall, muscular man, and lunged, his bone thin finger’s curling around his upper arm.

"Bucky-" Steve gasped, his chest heaving. "Wait- I’m sorry, don’t-"

The man turned, brown eyes, rather than steel blue drinking Steve in. “Sorry kid, wrong guy.”

Steve startled, jerking away as though he were hot, clutching the offending hand close to his chest. He stared, mortified, at the unfamiliar figure, and his stomach swooped sickly.

"Not lost are you?" The young man laughed, grinning at him as he moved forward. "Who y’lookin for? Maybe I know um."

Still taken aback, Steve swallowed mutely, easing away as the stranger approached him. “No…thanks-” he managed, “I’m fine, sorry to-”

Steve narrow, boney shoulder thumped against something solid. He jerked in alarm, about to wheel around when a strong hand curled over the top of his shoulder. The grip was heavy, heavier than Bucky’s and the stranger’s fingers pressed deeply into the flesh between his neck and collar. The would-be-Bucky looked suddenly nervous, easing back before turning to abruptly melt into the crowd.

"Funny running into you without your guard dog…"

Rumlow’s breath was hot against his ear, and Steve felt a thrill of horror run up his spine. Rumlow’s free hand slid up, wrapping around Steve’s upper arm, his large hand circling his slender bicep effortlessly. “It’s _Steve,_ isn’t it?” He growled in his ear, breath sweet with alcohol. The man’s chest was solid, and muscular to Steve’s back, grip viselike on his arm and shoulder. He was too close- too strong- he couldn’t-

Abruptly, Steve snapped back to himself, the shock flushed from his system by a wave of adrenaline. “Rumlow,” Steve said in a warning tone, teeth clenched, heart racing. “Get off. Right now.”

A low, rumble buzzed up Steve’s spine as the older man hummed in his ear. Pressing closer, he let his mouth close over Steve’s lobe, giving the bit of cartilage an experimental suck. Nausea surged in the pit of Steve’s stomach, and he lurched forward, but Rumlow’s grip tightened. His fingers dug bruises into the tender flesh of Steve’s arm, and he shifted his hold on the boy’s shoulder, his forearm wrapped around his neck.

Rumlow gave a low snarl of warning, nipping Steve’s ear hard enough to make him yelp. “Listen to me kid-” he growled. “You’re out of your depth. Do exactly what I tell you too and this doesn’t have to get ugly…You’re gonna be walking a little funny by the time I’m done with you, but at least I’ll be nice. Now, let’s-”

Steve sunk his teeth into Rumlow’s wrist, right where the skin was thinnest, and yanked back his head.

A startled scream of pain tore from Rumlow’s throat, and he lurched back, blood running down his arm. In the confusion, Steve wrenched from his grip, lunging towards the nearest gap in the crowd. His heart was pounding so violently in his chest he thought it was going to pop. He felt lightheaded, and sick, the taste of Rumlow’s blood in his mouth turning his stomach.

Suddenly Rumlow’s hand, slick with blood, curled into the back of Steve’s collar and wrenched him back.

Steve’s yelp of alarm was abruptly choked off, the front of his collar drawing tight against his throat. He coughed, feet skidding and loosing ground as Rumlow dragged him, choking, and clawing, back. The older man seized Steve’s boney shoulder, viciously twisting him around and slamming his fist into his jaw.

Pain exploded through Steve’s head, his vision going white, and then back as he dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks. The force of the impact radiated from his jaw, across his face, and all the way to the back if his skull, searing through his head like a white-hot iron. He couldn’t see, his vision consumed by swimming gray blotches. The music had grown distant, and all he was aware of was the throbbing in his head.

A moment later, Steve became vaguely aware that he was being dragged up off the ground, hauled onto useless, rubbery legs and forced backwards. It was only when his back was slammed against a wall, bringing with it another lance of pain, that his vision cleared.

Rumlow held him pinned against the nearest wall, the right cuff of his dress shirt crimson with blood. His jaw was locked, his eyes animalistic, and savage. “I’m gonna make you pay for that.” He snarled, thrusting him harder against the wall. “And I’m gonna start by taking you around back and fucking your scrawny ass against the wall until you scream.” he hissed, pressing close so that his mouth almost grazed Steve’s. “Then, I’m gonna force my dick into your pretty little mouth.”

Steve choked against Rumlow’s hand, eyelids fluttering weakly as a trace if blood splurged from his parted lips. “Really shouldn’t-” Steve breathed raggedly, his head going light from a lack of oxygen. “Small parts…are…a choking hazard…”

Rumlow stopped, for a moment, lost, before it suddenly sunk in that, even beaten down and choked nearly to unconsciousness, the little brat was _still_ talking shit. His jaw went momentarily slack, before his face suddenly contorted with rage. He hauled Steve away from the wall, the boy’s toes scraping the ground as Rumlow lifted him by his throat.

"Oh I’m gonna enjoy making you beg, finally something useful to do with that fucking mouth of yours." Rumlow growled, a sadistic smirk curling the corners of his mouth.

Out of nowhere, in a swift blur of motion, a scotch glass smashed over the back of Rumlow’s skull, glinting shards, edged with scarlet, spraying everywhere. Steve whipped his face away from the shrapnel, squeezing his eyes closed. Sharp, fine shards rained down on him, a few slicing thin cuts into his neck and cheek bones. And the choking, bruising pressure on his throat went suddenly limp.

Rumlow hit the ground with a thud, instantly unconscious.

Bucky stood over the body, expression twisted with rage, chest heaving. His head snapped up, gaze locking on Steve and he suddenly surged forward, the look of fury melting away. “Steve-” he gasped breathlessly, grabbing the front of his shirt in a blood-stain hand, his palm crisscrossed with lacerations. “Steve, look at me, talk to me-”

Steve forced his eyes open, his head swimming, still without all the oxygen it needed. “Bucky-” he managed, swaying as he caught himself on the wall. The image of his rescuer was blurred, and dim, his eyes going in and out of focus as he filled his lungs with air.

"Fuck-" Bucky hissed under his breath, dragged Steve away from the wall and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Come on, come on, come with me doll…come with me Stevie, I gotcha. _You_ -" he snapped abruptly, jabbing a finger at a startled dancer before pointing down at Rumlow’s unconscious figure. "Call and ambulance. Make sure this fucking _pathetic_ bastard doesn’t _actually_ die." The words sounded reluctant, but he didn’t take them back. Steve was priority now.

-.-

Steve was still disoriented as Bucky dragged him through the writhing mass of people and to a little door tucked around a corner by the bathroom. The door opened up into a dingy, gray hallway, with a distressed carpet and exposed bulbs hanging from the ceiling. It was all but empty, save for one drunk, passed out man, and a couple or two in various states of undress. Bucky didn’t pay them the slightest mind. He pulled Steve along, shifting him a moment to dig a key out of his pocket and unlocking the last door at the end of the hallway.

By the time he got it undone, Steve’s motor functions were returning. His chest heaved as he tried to drag in enough air to make up for what Rumlow had robbed him of, but his feet had grown steadier underneath him. Bucky pushed open the door and lead him inside.

The room was nothing like the flashy, gaudy club, and nothing like the graying, dingy hallway. It was…classy. The carpet was thick and plush underfoot and a tasteful chandelier scattered rectangles of light in every direction. Racks of pool sticks lines the walls, the furthest end of the room dominated by a high quality pool table. A mini bar lined another wall, fully stocked, with a three or four stools lining the counter. Across from it, three comfortable leather couches formed a partial square around a dark cherry coffee table. It was here that. Bucky guided Steve, keeping a hand on his back until the seventeen year old dropped onto the soft cushions.

Bucky stared at Steve, guilt twisting in the pit of his stomach. His throat and jaw were blooming in shades of black and purple, blood crusted on his chin. He shouldn’t have walked away. He shouldn’t have left him alone. "Hang on sweetheart…" Bucky murmured absently, standing up and slipping around the back if the minibar. He returned a moment later with a first aid kit and a bottle of water. Setting the water aside, Bucky opened the kit, wordlessly tearing open a moist cloth packet and wiping at the dried blood on his chin.

"Bucky-" Steve protested thickly, pulling his head away, but Bucky reached forward, gently threading his fingers through Steve’s soft, blond hair and drawing him close.

The older boy gave a tight little shake of his head. “Nope.” He said shortly. “Sit yer ass down Steve, I’m gonna patch you up.”

Steve huffed a sigh, but fell still, letting Bucky gently clean away the blood. Once he was finished with the wet wipe, Bucky pulled out a little tin of salve, gently massaging it into his neck and jaw. Steve watched as he worked, the older boy’s brow drawn with guilt. It was an unfamiliar expression, and Steve almost didn’t recognize it on Bucky’s face. But his mouth was set in a pained grimace, his eyes laced with guilt, as he carefully looked Steve over.

"That should help with any swelling…" Bucky murmured, before reaching over for the water bottle. He snatched it up off the table, raising it to Steve’s eye level and purposefully cracking the seal. "There." He pressed, shoving it into Steve’s hands. "Y’see? It’s safe. Now drink it."

Steve received the bottle, hesitating as his gaze lingered on the seal. Bucky felt his cheeks warming, hurt twisting in poisonous coils in his gut. “I ain’t gonna drug you.” He snapped, his voice betraying a little more of his emotions that he was really comfortable with Steve seeing.

"I know."

Bucky stopped abruptly, the anger and hurt going cold inside of him. “What?” He demanded, his tone still carrying an edge, but he’d reined it back, not wanting to threaten Steve again.

Steve shifted reluctantly, twisting the cap the rest of the way off the bottle and fussing with it absently. “ _I know_.” He repeated, setting aside the cap. “I was an ass before, I was scared, and I lashed out at you…I shouldn’t have. That’s on me.”

Bucky stopped, letting Steve’s words sink in, before he lowered his gaze. “I shouldn’t have left you alone, I _knew_ a brat like you never would have stayed out of trouble.” Bucky responded, before raising his eyes and cracking a small smile. “That’s on _me_.”

For a brief few moment, a silence hung between them that was almost…comfortable… Steve, nursing his water, sat with his legs crossed under him, Bucky mimicking the position a half-cushion away. The apologies tasted strange on their tongues, but the resolve left a pleasant aftertaste.

Bucky was the first the break the stillness. He shifted, tugging another disinfectant wipe free to clean the lacerations on his palm. He hadn’t  _planned_ on smashing Rumlow’s skull with a scotch glass, but after seeing him holding Steve against the wall, choking him…hurting him, Bucky had kind of lost it. He also couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Rumlow was a fucking grown man; frankly, he’d been too old for  _Bucky_  at twenty, much less Steve at only _seventeen_.  Bucky couldn’t help but think that it was about time someone smashed a glass over that perverted bastard’s head. 

“You hurt anywhere else?” Bucky asked, not making eye contact. He was too unused to concern for others to quite meet Steve’s gaze.

Steve pause shifting his neck a little and rolling his boney shoulders. “Mhh…Bruised neck, jaw, and upper arm…bloody gums…I’m good.”

Bucky snorted, pitching the bloodstained wet wipe aside. “ _Good_. That bastard deserved everything he got for gettin’ his hands on you.” The older boy hesitated for just a moment before tipping up his chin, staring at Steve curiously. “What was all the blood on his cuff? That wasn’t there when we talked earlier, and it sure as hell wasn’t from me. What’d you do?”

Steve grimaced, and he could have sworn he could still taste the metallic tang of Rumlow’s blood on his tongue. “I might have torn a quarter-sized chunk of flesh off his wrist.” 

Bucky’s bark of laugher startled Steve, and the brunet reached over giving his shoulder a shove. “Steve, you’re fucking  _priceless_!” Bucky grinned, his chest fluttering as Steve tipped his head down with that tiny, precious little smirk on his lips. “I mean it! _God_! What a doll!”

“Shut up…” Steve grumbled softly, but the corners of his lips were turned up, his gaunt cheeks flushed a dull pink. Bucky could get lost looking at him just like this. All soft lines, and pale skin…his dark brown lashes caressing his cheeks…Bucky had seen Steve’s beauty since the moment he met him, but _this_ , right here…This was different, and he’d never seen anyone  _more_ beautiful. 

He stared for just a half-moment longer, before he suddenly leaned in, and kissed him.

It was a selfish kiss, and Bucky knew it. He surged forward, catching Steve’s chin suddenly in his hand and crushed their mouth’s together in a whirl of thoughtlessness and emotion. His finger’s gripped into Steve’s chin, his chest tight, as he pressed the short, rough kiss to Steve’s soft lips and wrenched back. Bucky caught his breath, staring, waiting for Steve’s to lash out, waiting for his quick, fiery Irish temper to flare, but the other boy just stared.

As Bucky had released his chin, Steve had drawn back, face slack, eyes wide. His lips were parted, the skinny boy’s chest heaving as he caught his breath. He looked stunned, and shocked, staring at Bucky silently.

Bucky felt himself go suddenly weak. Why wasn’t he yelling yet? It wouldn’t necessarily be out of character. By this point, Steve should have been on his feet, his cheeks flushed scarlet as he tore into him for proving him right, for being a selfish, egotistical, self-absorbed bastard with no boundaries. But he was just  _staring_ , and it had wound Bucky tightened than a piano wire.

The older boy abruptly broke the stare, but he could still feel Steve’s gaze drilling into his skull. Bucky wasn’t sure why, but a cold sweat had broken out across the back of his neck. “ _Forget that_.” Bucky said sharply, his gaze snapping nervously around the room. “Alright, y’got that? It never happened.” He ordered, but his voice was fluster, and lacked any real bite. “I mean- shit- It was just a fucking kiss okay? No big deal, it’s not like it meant anything, fuck, it’s not like it was your first or something like that.” 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Bucky caught sight of a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of Steve’s head.

He whipped around, staring accusingly at Steve, who’s expression had hardly shifted. He still looked frozen, and vaguely alarmed. “It wasn’t- _was it_?” Bucky asked, his tone dropping off at the end, and his stomach sank as Steve jerked a tiny, wide-eyed nod. 

A distressed groan escaped Bucky lips, and he rocked back a little, looking dismayed. “Fuck, Steve! That was a _shit_ first kiss!” He moaned, before suddenly reaching forward and grabbing Steve’s slender thighs, dragging him knee to knee with him. “Fuck- Come here, were gonna do this _right_.” Bucky growled, framing Steve’s angular jaw with his hands and drawing him in.

For the first time in minutes, Steve shook himself out of his daze, suddenly trying to pull his face out of Bucky’s hands. “Don’t I get a say in this?” He demanded, brow drawing ever so slightly as Bucky maintained his hold on him.

Bucky scoffed, his initial reaction  _‘of course not!’_  He was going to give Steve a proper first kiss and Steve was gonna  _like_  it. But the weird Bucky was back, the Bucky who actually  _cared_  what Steve wanted…the Bucky who actually, genuinely liked Steve, and wanted Steve to like him back…

Reluctantly, Bucky shrugged, rolling his eyes moodily. “I mean _\- I guess_ …” He grumbled under his breath, loosening his hold on Steve’s jaw, but the younger boy didn’t pull away just yet.

Steve slid out his tongue, wetting his lips experimentally as he scrutinized Bucky with that piercing blue stare that was always so unnerving. He looked him straight in the eyes, continuing to stare until Bucky self-consciously dropped his gaze. “How do you know I’m even _into_ guys?” Steve challenged, his chin lifting slightly. “You never even bothered to ask!”

At the question, Bucky felt his nervousness ebb, and a knowing smirk curled the corners of his lips. He turned his face up; meeting Steve’s gaze was equal determination. “I caught you staring…” He whispered, sinking his front teeth into his lower lip, drawing up a flush of red just under the skin. 

Steve’s confidence suddenly wavered, his cheeks flushing a dull pink. He  _had_ been staring. He’d only hoped Bucky hadn’t noticed.

Bucky eased forward, suppressing a grin as he shifted onto his knees, rising a little bit above Steve’s level. “The day we met…” He breathed, his thumb grazing tenderly over Steve’s cheekbones. “Saw you starin’ at my mouth…” He purred, and just the tip of his wet, pink tongue brushed along his lower lip. “Earlier tonight…on the curb…Never seen a straight boy stare at another guy like that… I’m right aren’t I?”

The blond swallowed, a little mesmerized, now openly staring at Bucky’s flushed lips. His gaze darted from his mouth to his eyes before dropping back, his breath growing shallow. 

Bucky eased forward, still on his knees so that Steve’s boney collar rested against the middle of his chest. His drew his face up, his touch having grown light, and gentle as he caressed Steve’s cheeks, his eyelids half lowered. “What’d’ya say baby doll? Can I kiss ya?”

A soft breath of air slipped from between Steve’s lips and his eyelids fluttered, blinking rapidly to clear his head. The younger man’s lungs expanded as he drew in a steadying breath, and he lifted his chin. “Only cause you fucked up the first one…” 

Bucky cracked a smile and slowly stooped, letting his mouth press against Steve’s. It wasn’t like any kiss Bucky had given before, it was remarkably still. Normally, when Bucky pulled his partners in, rough, or gentle, he was always moving. He was always shifting and pressing deeper, working the hot curve of his mouth against his partners as his tongue played along the seem of their lips. With Steve, he was all but frozen. Bucky kissed Steve softly, his mouth parted just enough to frame the other boy’s lower lip. His eyes were closed, savoring the taste of Steve’s soft, lush mouth against his own, indulging in the way Steve’s breath ghosted over his upper lip. The boy had gone soft, and pliable under Bucky’s hands, but his kept still, his only movement to stroke Steve’s razored cheekbone with his thumb. 

Slowly, Bucky eased back, eyes still closed, his damp lips catching on Steve’s for just a moment longer before he reluctantly drew away. He dropped back, eye level with Steve once more.  “So?” He asked, trying to ignore the uncharacteristic thumping in his chest. 

Steve blinked slowly, looking a little distant as he opened his eyes and let his chin dip back down. After a moment, a little smirk pulled at his lips, and he met Bucky’s gaze. “That wasn’t  _anything_  like I though my first kiss was gonna be.” Steve confided, and Bucky snorted, suddenly sprawling back on his elbows, one leg dropping over Steve’s thigh. 

“That bad huh,  _Mr. experienced_?” He challenged, and Steve looked away with a scoff.

“I didn’t say it was  _bad_  you big baby, just…Nothing like what I expected.”

“Yeah?” Bucky pressed, folding an arm behind his head and resting back on it, watching Steve through his lashes. “How so?”

Steve paused for just a breath, staring curiously at Bucky. He seemed genuinely interested. He wasn’t pressing, or flirting. He looked…casual, laying back on the couch, one leg tossed over his like they’d know each other their whole lives…Steve quickly cleared his throat, looking away. “Well…” He murmured, his hands absently finding on of the couch’s throw pillows and nestling it against his narrow chest. “For one thing, I  _didn’t_  think it was going to be in the side room of a seedy club with the son of a mob boss, that’s for sure.”

“You’ve  _got_  to make it about family, don’t’cha…” Bucky grumbled and Steve abruptly hurled the pillow at his face. 

“It’s a bit of a tough pill to swallow, I  _doubt_  you’ve noticed.” He responded, flopping back against the arm of the couch, and Bucky flashed him a grin. The brunet propped himself back up onto his elbows, tongue resting cheekily between his teeth. 

“Alright tough guy. How was it _supposed_ to go?” He demanded, rolling forward onto his tailbone and bracing his weight on his palms. 

Dropping his gaze away, Steve suppressed a little smile. He couldn’t believe he was doing, talking with Bucky _fucking_ Barnes about how he’d always imagined his first kiss. The again, he was almost having a hard time believe that Bucky _fucking_ Barnes _was_ his first kiss. “Uhm…” Steve started, dipping his chin with an awkward little smile. “Some dame…or fella, someone  _nice_ -” he emphasized and Bucky wrinkled his nose.

“C’mon, I’m _nice_ ,” He protested, but Steve cut him off.

“-was gonna take a gamble on me. Fuck,  _maybe_  it wouldn’t be worth it, but there’s always the chance that they wouldn’t care, and they’d stick around anyways…and we’d have dinner…do something corny and cliché, like…watch the sunset from the pier…or sit in the back of a movie theater holdin’ hands…and then we’d drive home, and say goodnight, and I’d have my first kiss before they left…” Steve pause, his gaze a little distant, one corner of his mouth still lifted in that painful, self-depreciating smile. “I guess most people won’t take a gamble on someone like me.”

Bucky’s heart dropped.  _Someone like him_. His chest constricted with pain as he stared at Steve’s gorgeous, delicate features, his mind spinning as to how he didn’t have  _every single_  person in Brooklyn pursuing him. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could take a look at Steve, with his soft blue eyes, and gorgeous pink lips, with his adorably floppy blond hair and slender figure and _not_  fall head over heels for him! Swallowing hard, Bucky suddenly leaned forward, his lips parting as he moved to pull Steve into a kiss-

Steve’s hand abruptly jerked up, held in front of his mouth, and Bucky drew up short, his full, red lips just grazing Steve’s fingertips. He stared at the boy over the top of his hand, meeting his gaze, which was suddenly edged with uncertainty. He looked nervous, and confused, like Bucky’s expression, and actions baffled him.

Slowly, the blond dropped him gaze away, turning his head down although his fingers tips remain, resting, against Bucky’s lips. “I- I think two is more than enough…” He murmured, not looking at him. “Lets….not pretend, okay?”

Bucky swallowed, slowly easing back, although he missed the warmth of the contact. “Sure…” Bucky responded in a muted tone, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest and failing. Let’s not pretend that this could actually  _be_ something. Let’s not pretend that you actually like me…that I’m more to you than someone to fuck…The implications of Steve’s words stung, because as much as Bucky tried to tell himself that that was all it was… _pretend_ …it  _wasn’t_  pretend to Bucky, not anymore. The feelings in his chest were foreign, bizarre, and sometimes e _xtremely_  uncomfortable, but Bucky  _liked_  him. Fuck…Bucky  _really_  liked him. 

Sitting back, Bucky stared down at his hands, clasped absently in his lap. He couldn’t fault Steve. The poor kid just didn’t want to let himself get hurt by believing a scum bag like Bucky genuinely liked him. How could Bucky be upset with him for that? He hadn’t exactly proved himself to be the most trustworthy…

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Bucky suddenly looked up at Steve, meeting his gaze with a small smile. “Come on,” He said, letting his leg slide off of Steve’s thigh as he stood up. He tugged the wrinkles out of the front of his shirt and gestured to the door with a tip of his chin. “It’s pretty late, I’m gonna take you home.”

Steve looked up, staring at Bucky through his lashes.  _Home_  suddenly seemed very far away. He had known all along that the night was over when Bucky said it was over, and if he had wanted to keep him here until the early hours of the morning, he absolutely would. But it was only just after 11:00 and Bucky was taking him _home_. Blinking in surprise, Steve quickly collected himself, patting his pockets for the meager items he’d come with. Once he was certain his few possession were secure, Steve pushed himself up, hesitating as he waited expectantly on Bucky.

Bucky took Steve in with a sweep of his gaze, his eyes lingering on his delicate, slender figure. There was something Steve couldn’t quite place in his gaze, something distant, and wistful. In a flash, Bucky buried the glimmer of emotion, covering it was an easy smile as he pulled Steve’s tiny body against his side once more, tucking the boy under his arm. “Alright Sugar, lets get outta here. Stay close this time.”

-.-

The ride back was almost completely silent; both boys too occupied to speak. The moment they’d gotten into the car, Steve had buckled in and curled into a ball against the window, his arms around his knees, head tucked. Bucky wasn’t sure what exactly that body language meant, but it looked closed. He didn’t try to break him out of it. Besides, Bucky had more than enough on his mind anyways, like what the _fuck_ he was supposed to do.

The uncharacteristically affectionate feelings that Steve dragged out of him confused, and alarmed Bucky. For as long as he could remember Bucky had always gotten what he wanted, and he’d grown accustom to wanting _everything_. But this was different. Bucky wanted Steve so badly it hurt, so badly in made his chest ache and his head feel light and stupid. He wanted Steve so desperately that he would take anything Steve gave him, even if it was just a smile. And fuck if the kid’s smile didn’t kill him.

For as many lovers, and partners, and boyfriends, and girlfriends Bucky had had, he’d never once felt anything beyond the selfish love of getting something out of them. They were never more than a means to an end. They were never someone Bucky truly cared for. And now there was Steve, and his feelings for him shocked, and baffled Bucky. He had no idea how to cope with them, and not idea how to act on them. So Bucky kept them to himself, kept playing to role of the arrogant flirt, kept hoping that maybe Steve would see past it, and teach him how to properly love someone.

Steve curled in against the car door, eyes squeezed closed, his stomach oddly tight. He didn’t feel anxious, and nauseous as he had the last time he’d been in this position, but he did feel something, something he wanted no part of. When Bucky had kissed him, something had gone weak inside of him. He found himself melting into the touch, and trying to calculate some situation that _didn’t_ end in Bucky manipulating him, using him, and throwing him away. He’d tried, imagined every feasible situation, anything to believe that someone _really_ wanted him, but every time he hit the same wall: Bucky had everything. Steve had nothing. Bucky could have whoever he wanted, and Steve was nothing special. This only ever left one outcome: He was a temporary fetish, and once Bucky got in his way, once Bucky fucked him, he’d be tossed out.

And that hurt all the more now that Bucky had slipped through the chink in his armor. It hurt, because Steve hadn’t been strong enough, hadn’t been careful enough, and now, he was beginning to fall for Bucky.

-.-

Gravel crunched under the tires of Bucky’s car as he pulled up at the end of Steve’s block. He wanted to drive him right up to the door, maybe even walk him up to the front steps, but Bucky knew he couldn’t. They would lower their risk of discovery if he left Steve off here, and let him walk the last leg.

"Well, Stevie…" Bucky started awkwardly, tracing his fingers absently over the wheel. "Nobody can say you don’t keep good on your word…" He murmured, glancing over at the boy, seeing his head lift, his gaze distant.

Steve shifted, his legs cramping from holding himself so tightly for the entire ride. His head still felt cluttered with all the thoughts, and unwanted feelings, but for the moment, he set them aside, and turned to grace Bucky with a faint, exhausted smile. “You gonna be good on yours?” He asked, meeting his gaze evenly despite the weariness that dragged at his battered body.

Bucky smirked faintly, his heart giving an unnecessary little stutter at the sight of Steve’s sleepy little smile. “Sure kiddo, but forget about it for now, okay? Get some sleep, and hey” before Steve could react, Bucky dipped his hand into the boy’s pocket, plucking out his phone with ease and flipping it open.

"Bucky-" Steve protested, lunging for the phone, but Bucky tugged it just out of reach. 

He smirked, fingers taping shortly across the keypad, and he flashed Steve an easy grin before relinquishing the phone. “Gimme a call, okay peach?”

Steve stopped, staring down at the little display screen. A string of digits met his curious gaze, now logged into his phone under a tastefully anonymous B.B. The younger man blinked, before looking back up to meet Bucky’s gaze once more. After a second of silence, he nodded, tucking the phone away. “Good night Bucky,” He murmured, undoing his belt as he popped open the passenger’s side door. 

As the door opened, Bucky was suddenly shocked by a wave of desperation. He didn’t want Steve to go. He didn’t want him to leave him alone, because if he stayed, maybe the weird Bucky, the happier Bucky, would stay too. He didn’t want to go back to the cold, selfish person he really was…He wanted to pretend he was better, and Steve was the only one that brought that out of him. Suddenly, Bucky reached across the seat, seizing Steve’s arm desperately. He pulled him back into the car, the younger boy almost loosing his balance as Bucky dragged him close, moving to cradle the back of his neck, pulling his mouth close.

But Steve pushed away. Disentangling himself from Bucky’s grip, he stumbled back out onto the sidewalk. He tripped backwards a pace, unsteady on his feet as he stared back through the open car door, his eyes wide, expression drawn into something resembling desperation. Steve’s heart was slamming in his chest, because for a few, baffling moments, all he’d wanted was to let Bucky pull him back in. All he’d wanted was to let Bucky tug him back into the car and let him kiss him until his head was spinning, until he couldn’t think, until he could forget that Bucky was only using him. 

But he couldn’t, he had to…he…he _couldn’t_ …

Bucky returned Steve’s gaze, looking up at him, his lips pressed tight. Slowly, the brunet lowered his gaze, one corner of his mouth turning up in a quietly apologetic smile as he resigned himself to letting Steve go. “G’night Stevie…” He murmured, reluctantly, stretching across the passenger’s seat to tug the door closed. And with that, Bucky pulled away from the curb, and was gone, leaving Steve to wonder how he’d been so careless as to want to believe that Bucky really loved him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now were getting into some angsting and pining! :D Also, I made a graphic edit for this story on my tumblr if You guys would like to check it out.  
> http://thelittlestpurplecat.tumblr.com/post/114606429174/bucky-barnes-leads-a-charmed-life-as-the-son-of


	5. Chapter 5

The world had gone fucking _insane_. It was the only explanation. Otherwise, how could it have happened that Steve Rogers, a skinny little nothing of a kid from a poor family, had acquired the  _personal_  cellphone number of Bucky Barnes? 

Steve sat cross-legged on his hard, narrow mattress, his outdated phone laying in the palm on his hand, Bucky’s number displayed on the screen. It had been three days since his…well…his  _date_  with Bucky… _fuck_ …he’d gone on a _date_  with the son of the Barnes family... _shit_ …Steve’s life had gotten weird _fast_. But it didn’t matter, it had been three days since their date, and Steve’s painfully ill-fated feelings had persisted. He’d fought every day with the decision to call Bucky, and every day, had tossed his phone aside. 

Steve had tried to talk himself out of liking him, but no matter his logic, he couldn’t quite crush out the fluttering feeling in his chest. Whenever he thought of Bucky stepping in to save him from Rumlow, whenever he thought of him patching up his injuries, and pressing his warm, soft mouth to his own, Steve felt butterflies explode in his stomach. And he _hated_ it. It was so stupid! So dangerous! But he couldn’t choke it out. Bucky Barnes had him hook, line, and sinker, and Steve was going down hard, whether he wanted to or not. He tried to tell himself that Bucky was only going to hurt him in the end, that he probably wasn’t even capable of loving someone for any longer than he got something out of it. He tried to sear it into his mind that he was nothing! And why would Bucky even _want_ him anyways? But still, whenever Bucky crossed his mind, in school, at dinner, during the evenings when he was alone in his room, Steve couldn’t help a tiny, hopeful smile.

Dropped his chin, Steve looked down at the phone in his hand, exhaling, long and slow. One finger hovering over the call button, the pad of his finger touching lightly, though he still couldn’t bring himself to commit. He had an excuse to call. Bucky had even _asked_ him to call, so what was stopping him? Self-preservation maybe? Some last ditch attempt to save himself from serious emotional trauma? What ever it was fell suddenly short of Steve’s irrational, doomed feelings for Bucky, and he punched the call button.

-.-

Bucky lay, stretched out on his bed, the wide, cushy mattress sinking under his weight, warm light spilling across the comforter from through the open window. The brunet had his head tipped back, eyes closed, with a pair of headphone over his ears. He indulged in the quiet, lazy afternoon, blocking out anything else that may be going on in the world outside his door. Admittedly, it was a rare moment. He’d been out of the house more that usual, though he hadn’t been chasing his usual pastimes. Bucky’s pastimes, more often than not, involved drinking, smoking and fucking whoever he felt like, and when, and wherever he felt like. But recently, Bucky had gone out for the simple purpose of escaping the house for a little while. He’d become oddly aware of sinister aspects of his home that it had never occurred to him to be bothered by before. Their basement was a veritable torture dungeon, splattered with the blood of people who had gotten on his father’s bad side. Until recently, Bucky had always thought that they’d got what was coming to them for not listening to a decent warning, but what if they hadn’t had any other choice?

At first, Bucky tried to convince himself that it was fine, that Steve was different from all of them. But then it sunk in, slowly, and horrifically, that Steve wasn’t _any_ different from them! The people that his father tied up in their basement, the people he or his men beat, tortured, and killed, were _just_ like Steve. The comparison raised visceral images in Bucky’s mind of Steve in the place of Flintly, or any other poor sap his father had mutilated over the years. Bucky had felt himself grow suddenly nauseous, imaging Steve, beaten, and bloody, slumping lifelessly in the chair…killed by his father’s hands, or worse, _his_.

That’s when Bucky had started spending his days away from the house.

He did a lot of walking. Bucky spent whole days walking the streets of Brooklyn, stopping for food at diners, or food stands on the streets. He returned late in the evening, with tall tales about the pretty, long-legged redhead that kept him so busy. He’d retreat to his room shortly after dinner, and put in his music to drown out the sounds of murmured voices in the hall, and the feeble cries for help that sometime drifted up from the basement.

It was mid afternoon, and Bucky had chosen to stay in today. Too much time out might make his family suspicious, although Bucky still kept to his room. Being around the different areas of the house was beginning to reveal more that he’d like the think about…like the fact that the furnace downstairs was big enough to burn a body…like the deeply scratched varnish on the headboard of one of the guest bed, outlining marks like handcuffs, and lines from broken, splintered fingernails…like the fact that there were room in the house that were always locked, even to him. It was more than Bucky cared to think about. So instead, he lay back on his mattress and soaked in his music.

Abruptly, Bucky tugged his headphones off, tossing them aside as he pulled his vibrating phone from his pocket. Tuning it over, Bucky felt his heart give a warm little tug in his chest. Steve’s name was spelled out across the screen, and Bucky’s mouth spread into a grin. He’d had no idea if Steve would have _actually_ called, but he’d left the ball in his court. While he was inputting his own number into Steve’s phone, he’d caught a glance at the other boy’s number, and, though it had been seared into his mind, he’d resolved not to call. He’d wanted to leave the choice of contact up to him. If Steve wanted to call him, he would.

Bucky lifted the phone, drawing in a deep, excited breath. Three days seemed too long to go without hearing Steve’s soft, deep voice, without hearing one of his clever, sarcastic quips, even if it was directed at him. Steadying himself, and adopting a casual smirk, Bucky received the call.

"Hey sugar," he drawled, knowing how Steve scorned the opening line.

"Hey asshole." Steve responded, and maybe Bucky was crazy, but it almost sounded like he was smiling.

"Yer voice is a sound for sore ears, how you been holdin’ up kid?"

Steve hesitated, the question catching him off guard. “Uhh…” He started, blinking uncertainly, as he traced a finger along the patchy quilt on his bed. “Okay? I guess?” Bucky was actually asking in on him? How much more surreal could Steve’s life get? “I pretended to be sick the first day after our- uh- after you took me out. That way I got to stay in bed, and Ma and Pa didn’t have to see the fucking ugly bruise on my throat.”

Bucky managed a pained smile, cradling the phone closer. He’d be lying if he said he’d forgiven himself for letting Rumlow hurt Steve, and the image of Steve, hiding away from his parents to conceal the injury, made him feel sick with guilt. “Yeah?” He asked, his tone gently, and apologetic, “And the last two day? What’d you do then?”

"Borrowed some of my ma’s foundation." Steve explained, his cheeks going a little pink, partially from embarrassment, partially from shame. The foundation had been a gift to his mother, bought by his father when times had been a little better, and money not _quite_ so tight. Steve felt wretched for stealing it from her, but he consoled himself that he was only using enough to cover the discoloration. His Ma would be more distraught finding out what had happened that she would about finding out that her son had nicked some of her makeup. Besides, how could Steve have  _possibly_  explained himself anyways? He’d thrown himself into a potentially deadly situation for the slim hope that he could earn them an extra few month’s safety? No. It was much better just to live with the guilt than to try and explain to his mother what danger he’d put himself in to buy them more time.

On the other end of the phone, Bucky guilt was suddenly forgotten, and he cracked a wide grin. “Really?” He pressed, propping himself up a bit and shifting the phone to his other hand. “Aw, Stevie, I bet you’d look real pretty in make up!”

The pink in Steve’s cheeks darkened until he  _might as well_  have been wearing rouge. “Shut up, Barnes…” He grumbled, ignoring the touch of flattery he felt in his chest.

“I mean it, you should try sometime.” Bucky egged him on, trying to ignore how much he actually _did_ like the idea. He could almost picture Steve’s soft, pale skin, looking porcelain smooth, his lashes accented by a dark streak of liner. His lips didn’t need a damn thing, they were already full, and soft, and so deliciously pink it made Bucky squirm, because he so _desperately_ wanted to kiss them. He _needed_ to feel them against his own, to delicately bite Steve’s lush lower lip just hard enough to bring the color to the surface, just hard enough to make Steve squirm with delight. Bucky bit down on his own lip, feeling a twitch of interest between his thighs as he imagined sucking on Steve’s lip until it was damp, and rosy, imagined Steve dropping to his knobby little knees and taking his cock into his flushed mouth. “I could get some stuff for ya,” Bucky tempted, “All kind of pretty things for you to try on.”

Steve felt the flush in his cheeks growing deeper, and though he could never imagine letting Bucky know, _he’d_ been considering it too. But of course, Bucky _couldn’t_ know, so Steve put it out of his mind. “Listen asshole, I aint gonna let you get me all dolled up, okay? Bottom line.” Steve said firmly, but the corners of his mouth were turned up in a smile, and Steve _knew_ Bucky could hear it in his voice.

“Not even a little lip gloss, somthin’ nice and sweet I can kiss offa ya?”

“Not a chance. I’ve sworn off gangster kissing.” The sound of Bucky’s laughter, tinny on the other end of the phone, met his ears, and suddenly everything felt okay. Yeah Steve still didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do about his feelings for Bucky, and yeah, he still didn’t know if Bucky wanted anything beyond the physical, but everything felt _okay_. And Steve had to admit that Bucky’s laugh was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard.

Smiling faintly, the younger boy rested back against his flat pillow, the phone still tucked against his ear. For just a few minutes, through Bucky’s teasing and laughter, Steve had forgotten the main purpose of his call. He felt his heart rate picking up in his chest, the bubbling sensation in his stomach suddenly fizzing out. Steve would have loved to live in a moment where he and Bucky were normal guys, ribbing each other over the phone, flirting, and maybe pretending that they could actually be something, but it couldn’t last. It couldn’t last because Bucky _wasn’t_ a normal guy, and the fate of Steve’s family rested _exclusively_ in his hands.

“So…have you talked to him yet?” Steve asked softly, his anxiousness freezing the flush of warmth that Bucky’s laughter had brought him.

Steve’s question caught Bucky off guard, and he faltered for just a moment before answering. “Yeah, sure I talked to him, don’t worry about it.”

At Bucky’s reply, Steve’s mouth twisted in a rueful, but not surprised grimace. “You’re lying.” He accused evenly, his tone soft, yet it carried a note of disappointment.

Bucky sat forward abruptly, his chest tightening at the tone of resigned disillusionment in Steve’s voice. “Look Sweetheart, I said I’d talk to him, and I did, okay? I took care of it, I promise.” And in truth, Bucky  _had_  talked to his father. He had no idea how he’d actually managed to gain his agreement, but he  _had_  talk to him. Bucky had approached Mr. Barnes two days ago in his study. At the time, his mind had been a blank, and it was all Bucky could do to spin whatever lie had come off the top of his head. 

_“So, the Rogers family, they were on your list…”_

_“Little busy James, but what about them?”_

_“Y’know they’re Gaelic?”_

_“Mmm…No, I didn’t, James, I-”_

_“I just thought you outta know that Mr. Rogers mentioned some…_ helpful _contacts he has over in Ireland…You’ve been wanting to get a foothold over there haven’t you?”_

_“Go on…”_

_“All I’m saying is, from what I hear, I think it’d be a mistake to knock out a potential resource.”_

_“What are you suggesting, James?”_

_“Nothing big, just maybe…let it ride for a while, forget about the Rogers. We can make sure everyone else on the list backs out of the market, and once we’re sure we’ve got the rest of the problem cleaned up, in say…six months, we can…revisit. Maybe make a bit of a bargain.”_

_“And you’re sure about the contacts?”_

_“There’s a good possibility. Trust me. Cutting the rug out from under the Rogers would be a mistake. If those contacts are good, we’d never track them back down without using the Rogers as a stepping stool.’_

_“Six months hm?”_

Bucky only hopped he hadn’t made the problem worse. But then again, he _had_ six months. In six months, Steve seemed to think his father would have work and the drug operation would be dropped. That solved one problem. Without Mr. Rogers selling within his father’s territory, the mob would leave them alone, but it raised an entirely new problem. Bucky had six months to figure out how to sort out his lie about Mr. Rogers having contact with important people in the Irish drug rings. He had to find a way to absolve Mr. Rogers of any blame. If his dad thought Joseph had lied to him, his fate would be far more painful than if he’d just been selling on his turf.

"What’d you tell him?!"

Bucky started, jerking himself back to reality. The dilemma he’d lied himself into may be six months in coming, but it also spelled the death of Steve and his entire family if he didn’t smooth it over. In a way, all Bucky had done was delay the inevitable. Inhaling deeply, Bucky forced himself to focus of the conversation. “What?” Bucky asked, shaking his head with a jerk.

" _Bucky_! What’d you tell him? What’d he say?"

"You got your six months," Bucky said easily, trying to smooth over the first part of Steve’s question. He was gonna fix it. He was gonna fix _everything_ , and the less Steve had to worry about it the better. Bucky didn’t think of it as sneaking behind Steve’s back, as hiding vital information, and lying to him. In Bucky’s own way, he saw it as being kind. Bucky’s risk would terrify him, and god knows the kid had enough fear and uncertainty in his life. He could take care of it. Bucky would ease his father away from the idea until he forgot about the Rogers entirely, and Steve would never have to worry. He could focus on school, focus on helping his family, he could continue to believe that as soon as his father found work that their troubles were over. Bucky wanted that for him.

On the other end of the phone, Steve heaved a huff of relief, the air crackling across the speaker. “ _God_ \- you’re sure?”

Bucky felt his chest growing warm at the relief in Steve’s tone. He could imagine his face, flushed a little pink, his gorgeous, soft lips pulled into a tentative smile. “Yeah, Steve, I’m sure, okay? I’m sure. Relax doll, your little family’s good…”

A breathless laugh escaped Steve’s lips, and he blinked incredulously, his head spinning. It had worked! His risk had actually paid off! He’d bought his family an entire half-year, and it really was all thanks to Bucky. He could have said no, he could have demanded more that Steve could have given him. But he hadn’t…Bucky had held up his end of the bargain, and Steve had come out of the entire, messy situation with only a little bruising.

"Bucky?" Steve pressed, cradling his phone against his ear.

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"Thank you…I didn’t think that- I mean-…you surprised me, Bucky." Steve amended, and a faint smile pulled at the boy’s lips.

At Steve’s quiet, sincere words, Bucky felt his heart rate pick up in his chest, and a feeling of giddiness suddenly bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. God he was such a looser! One nice word from this kid and he was getting all sappy! How much softer could he get? Steve had managed to turn him from an aloof, ruthless, mob boss in the making, into a…pile of…mushy…love struck _goop_ …what the fuck was wrong with him? Something in the back of his mind told him he had to get it together, that he had to get back into control of the situation and show Steve that he wouldn’t be wrapped around his finger. The old part of him wanted him to force Steve to be afraid of him, to respect him. It was the least he deserved.

But the old side of Bucky was having difficult keeping up when Bucky’s head was running away with his heart, and all the sudden Bucky knew he had to see Steve again. He couldn’t bare the thought of hanging up the phone and never getting to hear Steve’s voice again, never getting to see him…The deal was done, and Steve’s family was safe for the time being. Steve didn’t need him anymore. But Bucky couldn’t stand to let him go.

"You’re going to go out with me again." Bucky ordered abruptly, his desperation not to loose Steve making him tactless, and his demand was met with stony silence. Bucky swallowed, a scarlet flush suddenly crept up his cheeks. "I mean… _will you?_ I- I want you to- I… _want_ …you to got out with me again…" Bucky inwardly kicked himself. No matter how he constructed the sentence, it sounded pushy, and demanding, and the silence on the other end of the phone keened in his ear, setting his teeth on edge. He had to do better. Bucky tried to think of how he might have behaved if he hadn’t been raised think that a demand got him anything. He needed to be polite, he needed to ask Steve, rather than tell him. Dragging in a steadying breath, Bucky closed his eyes. "Will you _please_ go out with me again…sometime, Steve?"

For a long moment, only white noise came through his phone, and Bucky’s mouth felt suddenly very dry. He swore Steve was dragging it out just to torment him, bit the part of him that was beginning to accept responsibility for his own action wondered if he just hadn’t been good enough.

"That’s _better_." Steve responded finally, and Bucky was relieved to hear the openness in his tone. "But I swear to god Buck, if you take me anywhere like that fucking awful club, I’m _walking_ home."

"Okay, okay, no more nightclubs, no more bars. How ‘bout a nice restaurant- or- or coffee place, I know some great ones! Steve, fuck Steve I could take you _so_ many places, show ya so much, I-"

" _Whoa_!" Steve protested suddenly, but Bucky could still hear the smile in his voice. "One at a time, okay? I’m still not so sure about this.” Steve admitted. He hated that he was actually _excited_ to go out with Bucky again, but he was still trying to remember to protect himself. “I’ll let you take me out again, but _once_."

Bucky swallowed back a groan, because suddenly, all he wanted was to give Steve everything. He wanted to take him to all the best place, wanted to give him expensive gifts that he’d never be able to explain to his parents, wanted to kiss him whenever Steve would let him, and treat him like a prince. Steve deserved that! But Bucky wasn’t sure he could fit it into one date.

Bucky shifted restlessly on his mattress, a little smirk lingering on his lips. “What if I just order you to go out with me?” He pressed, trying to sound threatening, but Steve scoffed before the words were even fully out of his mouth.

"Yeah _fuckin_ right, Barnes, like you’ve ever been able to make me do shit."

A burst of laughter escaped Bucky throat, and the threatening persona slipped away. Steve was right. With all his power and all his resources, Bucky couldn’t budge Steve an _inch_ if he didn’t want to. “Alright, alright, okay. One date. You pick when, I’ll pick where.” Bucky compromised, knowing anything he had could just be blown off. Steve’s schedule on the other hand may not be so flexible.

"It’s gonna have to be a Sunday evening.” Steve said, shifting against his pillow. “I’ve got school on weekdays, and I pack groceries on Saturdays."

"Next Sunday’s clear for me." Bucky shrugged.

Steve gave a short bark of laughter, Bucky’s enthusiasm baffling him. “Hang on, I didn’t say _next_ Sunday.”

"Yeah, and why not? You busy, doll face?"

The blond haired boy scoffed, shaking his head incredulously. “I mean- no, I just- uhm…” Steve faltered helplessly, suddenly seeing no excuse _not_ to. “I _guess_ next Sunday is okay…” Frankly, Steve had mixed feelings about another date with Bucky so soon. On one hand, a part of him…kind of missed Bucky…he _wanted_ to see him again…on the other hand, the logical hand, Steve knew if he saw Bucky again so soon, his chances of shaking the destructive feelings he was developing suddenly got a lot slimmer.

But Bucky had already latched on to the idea. “Okay. Next Sunday. You gonna call me again when you have details?” He pressed, slipping out of bed and pacing across his plush carpet. His excitmet had spread from his mind to his body, and he was itching to move.

“Sure,” Steve replied with a little smile, trying to ignore the throbbing in his narrow, boney chest, trying not to let his mind wander ahead to their date. But he couldn’t help himself.

At Steve’s agreement, Bucky’s face spread into his grin, his heart racing with excitment as he as he tried not to bounce in place. “Okay,” Bucky said breathlessly, beaming as he imagined the expression the younger boy’s face; imagined him lying back on his bed, the phone held to his ear with that perfect, _beautiful_ smile on his lips. He hated to hang up, hated to miss anything, even just the sound of Steve’s wheezing breath, but he knew he had to. Steve would call again soon, and it wouldn’t be too long before he could hear his voice again. “Take care Stevie…”

“Yeah,” The response was low, and even, and Steve felt his chest warm at Bucky’s last words. “I will.”

"Bye."

Steve clicked his phone closed and tossed it onto the end of the bed, his head spinning as he stared, wide-eyed at his ceiling. He was going on a _second_ date with Bucky in less than four days…and how the hell was Steve supposed to stop liking him when Bucky insisted on being so goddam _nice_ all the time?

-.-

The next day, Bucky picked up his phone to the sound of Steve’s deep, soft voice, and he felt a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying begin to unwind. He’d missed Steve’s voice…He didn’t think he was even going to _stop_ missing it. The two boys exchanged jabs, and teasing comments before Steve offered him details on their date, which was coming in less than three days. At three o’clock, Steve would leave his house for the corner of 32nd again. It was his parents understanding that he would be spending a few hours with a friend. At three thirty, Bucky would meet Steve there. The older boy had remained obnoxiously tight-lipped about their destination despite Steve frustrated prompting. Steve bore a certain suspicion that Bucky had yet to decide where he was taking him

The day after, Steve found an excuse to call again. He prompted Bucky as to how he should dress, not wanting to be in his every day clothes if they were going somewhere high-quality. He divulged that his nicest shirt, the navy blue one he’d wore on there first date, had been ruined by all the blood, and Bucky would have to settle for his second best; a decent gray t-shirt with only one or two little stains.

The following day, Steve called again, apparently having forgotten the time of their date, but Bucky knew better. Steve knew exactly where he was supposed to be and when, but he needed an excuse to call. He still wasn’t at the point where he was comfortable calling without one, because that would mean admitting that he’d grown to like the sound of Bucky’s voice…that he’d grown to miss it…that sometimes, all he wanted to do was just talk.

So Bucky indulged him. He gave him whatever bit of advice or reminder he asked for, and then hooked him into a full conversation before he could get nervous and back out. Over the course of their phone calls, Steve loosened up, becoming more comfortable talking to Bucky. He divulged little bit about himself that Bucky hadn’t known before, gradually trusting Bucky with small aspects of his interests and background. Bucky loved to hear about Steve. He soaked in anything Steve would share with him, filing it away in his mind. He now knew that Steve liked his coffee black, that he hated the cold, and that he never wore socks to bed. It was all little things, all unimportant, but it gave Bucky a clearer picture of the boy who had impacted him so much…the boy he had grown undoubtedly attached to.

Over the course of their calls Bucky also began to push his luck. He began casually flirting with Steve over the phone, making subtle comments and passes. His first pass was met with silence, before Steve hurriedly changed the subject, sounding guarded for several minutes after. But the more they talked, the more Steve began reacting to Bucky’s passes with grace. He would quickly stuff the smile that threatened to pull at his lips, and scoff a ‘shut up, jerk,’ before hurling a devastating jab that would have Bucky in stitches on the other end of the phone. His passes became more frequent, and less subtle, and as much as Steve tried, he couldn’t bring himself to dislike them.

Had Bucky spent any more time around his family, his parents would have been stunned, and confused by the person their boy was becoming. Bucky had always sauntered through the house with a grin, and a confident lift of his head, but he’d seemed empty and restless, constantly chasing something just out of reach. Now, the emptiness was gone, and despite the growing unease he felt about his parents operation, Bucky didn’t think he’d ever been as happy as he was now.

-.-

The day before his date with Steve, Bucky sat down to dinner with his family for the first time in a week. He’d continued to avoid his parents, the house, and the aura of death in which it was steeped. Nothing made Bucky happier than talking with Steve, but the more he did, the more he felt a weight of responsibility for the other innocent people who had suffered at his family’s hand. Sometimes he regressed, and convinced himself that they had deserved it to try and shake the guilt, but it was helping less and less. The only thing that seemed to help, was remove himself from the entire, gory situation, which was why during dinner, Bucky’s mind was far away, particularly, on Steve.

Bucky traced his fork through the smear of gravy left on the edge of his plate, his eyes unfocused, deaf to the conversation around him. One of his father’s men had stepped in a few moments ago, speaking in low tones to his father but Bucky blocked it out. He had better things to think about, like what exactly he was going to do with Steve on their date tomorrow.

Bucky’s venue of choice was exactly the kind of place Steve hated. Raves, bars, and strip clubs, were easy entertainment for Bucky, but they made Steve anxious, and for good reason. His first experience in a nightclub had nearly seen him get raped, not to mention choked, and punched in the jaw. Bucky couldn’t blame Steve if he wasn’t champing at the bit to get himself into another situation like that. But that put Bucky in unfamiliar territory. He wanted to take Steve somewhere he would enjoy, but maybe somewhere a little unique to. The last thing Bucky wanted to do was bore him, or make him feel as though he was pandering him by picking a tamer venue. It had to be classy, and expensive, cause Bucky wanted to treat Steve to the afternoon of his life.

Bucky knew of several impressive private art collections that you needed contacts in high places to even _know_ about. Through their conversations over the phone, Steve had tentatively divulged his love of art. It was one of the first things Steve had shared with him. Until that point, Steve had still held all of his emotions close to his chest, and he shared very little about himself. But the longer they had spoken, the more he’d opened up, and Bucky had learned that Steve _loved_ art.

 _Of course_ he could get them into the collection. _That_ would be simple. The could go out for coffee, the good stuff, the expensive stuff, Bucky would buy Steve whatever he wanted, and then some…maybe a few of the Italian cream filled cannoli’s with the crunchy, chocolate drizzled shells. And Steve would roll his eyes, and call him a sap…and then they’d go to the collection, and Steve would get to see artwork that only a few other people in the world had ever had the chance to lay eyes on. Bucky could just picture his expression now. He could imagine Steve’s face, soft, and enraptured, lacking all of the guarded bitterness he employed to protect his heart. He’d look so unprotected, and trusting, because by now, he _had_ to know that Bucky wouldn’t hurt him…or at least…he _hopped_ he knew.

But if Steve didn’t know already, Bucky would make sure he did before he took him home at night. He was going to treat Steve the way he _deserved_ to be treated, the way that maybe Bucky had failed to treat him before. Not more forced contact, no more puling Steve into rough, selfish kisses. No more snapping when Steve got mouthy…and Bucky hoped he could be good enough that Steve wouldn’t ever feel like he had too. Bucky didn’t know if he was a good person, in fact, he probably _wasn’t_ , but for Steve, he was willing to try.

He had just dared to let himself think of what would happen if Steve let Bucky close to him, when he was suddenly wrenched out of his thoughts with a jolt of adrenalin. _Rogers_. He’d heard the name _Rogers_.

Turning, Bucky saw his father still speaking with one of his goons, under the disapproving eye of his mother, who detested when work mattered were brought into the dinning room. The men were speaking in low tones, but Bucky had heard the name clear as a bell, and he suddenly found himself straining to hear the context.

"-Transactions still went through this afternoon, so I offered a little extra…gentle persuasion."

George Barnes inclined his head in an approving nod, his gaze thoughtful. “ _Good_. What kind of gentle persuasion?”

The man produced a small, cardboard box from his pocket, and dropped it on the table with a dull rattle. Curiously, Mr. Barnes lifted the box, slipping off the lid and staring down in mild interest. “Very good, Moris. I think that will emphasize our point nicely.” He murmured, replacing the lid with an amused chuckle.

Bucky’s chair scraped back across the tiles with a horrible screech, the boy suddenly lunging over to where his father stood. Impatient, and suddenly deeply, _deeply_ afraid, Bucky snagged the box from his father’s hands and yanked the lid aside.

 _A_ _finger_. A grown man’s _finger_.

Bucky had been completely desensitized to violence and gore over the years, but as he stared down at the bloody, hacked-off digit in the box, he felt his stomach plung sickly. “Who’s is this?” Bucky asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but his voice sounded small, and weak even to his own ears.

"Listen, Bucko, I thought about what you asked, I _really_ did, but there are too many holes in Rogers’ story. _I know_ , you thought it looked like a good investment of our patience, but people like Joseph Rogers just _don’t_ have connections that are of any value."

His father’s words were almost drowned out by the roaring in his ears, and it was everything Bucky could do not to drop, weak-kneed, back into his seat. The box lay in his hand, the bottom saturated with thick, congealing blood. Mr. Barnes was still speaking, but Bucky was too horrified to listened. Somewhere out there, right now, Steve dad was clutching his hand, blood gushing from the stump of a finger. Somewhere out there, Steve mother was crying as she worked though the tears to bandage him. Somewhere out there, Steve was slumped against a wall, shock heavy in the pit of his stomach as he came to the realization that Bucky had hung him out to dry, lied to him, used him…

"-I don’t like being lied to, I know you don’t either. These things happen though James, you’ll learn which hunches are the good ones to bet on. If you want though, if Rogers won’t see reason, I can let _you_ take care of him. Teach him a lesson for trying to trick you."

Bucky suddenly pulled away, taking a shaky step back, the blood soaked box dropping heavily from his crimson stained hands. Through his haze of shock, and panic, Bucky knew he still had to be convincing in his role, still had to convince his father that he was dependable, and trustworthy, it still may help his save Steve’s family.

"That sounds fine." He said tightly, blinking rapidly as he choked back the bile in his throat. "Can we talk about it tomorrow though? I-"

All the sudden, Bucky lost his capacity to think. He turned unsteadily, and slipped from the room, breaking into a dead run the moment he was out of sight. All he knew was that he _had_ to talk to Steve. He had to get to him, had to _help_ him, and just _maybe_ make him believe that this hadn’t been Bucky’s intention. This had been the _last_ thing Bucky wanted, and now, Steve, and his whole family were back in danger, and directly or not, Bucky was the one to blame.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a graphic edit for this story on my tumblr if you guys would like to check it out.
> 
> http://thelittlestpurplecat.tumblr.com/post/114606429174/bucky-barnes-leads-a-charmed-life-as-the-son-of


	6. Chapter 6

“Steve-” Bucky choked, his voice breaking despite himself as he paced his room like a madman, wringing his fingers through his hair. “Answer your phone…Goddamn it! _Answer your fucking phone!”_ The ringing cut off, an automated voice instructing him, for the _millionth_ time, how to go about leaving a message. Bucky’s grip tightened on the phone, his teeth clenched so hard they hurt, but he swallowed back his helpless anger, forcing himself to sound calm. “Steve, _please_ answer me,” Bucky begged, his tone imploring as he stopped to stabilize himself on the edge of his desk. “ _Please_ , Steve, I _need_ to talk you, I- I just- Just tell me you’re okay, that’ll all I want. I swear… _fuck_ \- Steve I just need to know you’re okay…. call me…” 

Bucky’s thumb tapped the end button, and he stopped, staring down at his phone. This was his fault. He’d thought he was _so_ clever, and now Steve’s dad was hurt, and Steve wasn’t answering his calls, and why would he? He was the bastard who set his family up to die, why _would_ he answer? Bucky felt his stomach tighten into a knot, a helpless, uncontrollable anger suddenly filling his trembling body. His fingers curled tighter around the device, hands quaking with self-directed fury.

Suddenly, Buck snapped, hurling his phone across the room. He wheeled away from it, gripped his fingers through his hair, and bending almost double, a scream of frustration tearing from his throat. He _tried_. He’d tried _so_ fucking _hard_ to be better, to do something _good_ for once, and all it had done was hurt more innocent people. And now he’d lost Steve too…

As the scream of frustration cracked off with a hoarse gasp, Bucky became dimly aware that the rain that had been falling all afternoon had turned violent. The wind gusted outside, shuddering the windowpanes, and Bucky’s dark room suddenly crackled with white light. A half-breath later, a thunderclap so violent it shook the entire mansion sounded after. If one good thing came of it, it was that the noise jolted Bucky back to himself.

Swallowing back the toxic mixture of guilt, and anger, and pain, Bucky crouched to the floor, searching feverishly for his phone. He couldn’t let Steve go, not yet. He had to keep trying, even if he had to leave messages all night. 

Another flash of lightning flooded the room in brilliant white, reflecting off the screen somewhere to his left.  Bucky’s head snapped around and he dove for the phone, snatching up and scrambling to his feet. Steve’s number had been ingrained into his mind for days, and his fingers moved on muscle memory alone as he punched in the eight-digit code. Clutching the phone to his ear, Bucky waited, the ringing in his ears almost rivaling the vicious storm outside.

“ _Come on Stevie_ …” Bucky whispered, redialing after the tone. “Come on sweetheart, answer me…answer me…”

_“inbox full”_

A snarl of frustration escaped Bucky’s throat, and he redial, letting it ring through again and again. “Pick up,” He hissed, pacing relentlessly, his free hand tugging feverishly at his hair. “Pick up! _COME ON!”_

Suddenly, the sound of white static crackled over the phone, and Bucky faltered, shocked. He’d become so accustomed to the mechanical voice intoning about messages, and full inboxes that it’s sudden absence startled him.

“Steve?” He asked breathlessly, his hand falling away from his hair. “Y’there? God, Steve, I’m so sorry, _fuck._ Steve this is all my fault…Where are you?” Bucky pressed suddenly, dropping to his knees and dragging his shoes out from under his bed. “I gonna come right now, just tell me where you are.”

For a long moment, all Bucky heard was the almost defining rush of white noise, disproportionally loud in comparison with Steve’s silence. Just when Bucky was beginning to think that his was talking to dead air, Steve’s voice rasped through the receiver.

_"I’m outside."_

His voice sounded tight, and raw, like he’d been crying, or screaming. He sounded like he was on the verge of breaking down, exhausted, terrified, and furious all at once. In those two, short words, Steve managed to pack more aggression, and bitterness, and hurt than in any of the strings of cutting insults he’d hurled at him in the past.

But he was there.

"You’re _what_?" Bucky demanded, yanking his shoes on over his socks and fumbling clumsily with the phone. "The fuck are you thinking? You can’t be outside in this, yer gonna get killed! Go back in the house! Steve, get inside!" He ordered, but his voice broke with concern, his heart suddenly racing in his chest. Outside, another clap of thunder reverberated through Bucky’s chest, shaking him all the way down through his bones. Through the phone’s tinny speaker, and over the staticy rush of the downpour, Bucky heard the thunder echo back through the phone.

"I mean, I’m _outside_."

Realization hit Bucky like a punch to the gut, and he suddenly stumbled over to the window, ripping back the heavy curtains. Through the white sheets of drenching rain, Bucky could make out a tiny, hunched figure on the corner, just the pale oval of his face visible as he looked towards the looming mansion. The older boy’s stomach dropped out from under him, and Bucky was suddenly flying out of his room. He careened down hallways and stairwell, dodging frequented areas of the house until he burst out the back door.

He was met by lightning so close his hair stood on end, the top of a nearby tree spilt, and smoking. “ _Steve_!” He screamed into the downpour, soaked the moment he stepped through the door. “Steve!” Bucky plunged into the open at a dead run, hair clinging to his forehead as vicious, slanting sheets of rain blinded him. He bolted across the deserted road, water sluicing around his ankles.

Bucky abruptly stumbled to a halt, Steve’s tiny, soaking figure emerging out of apparently thin air. The rain had blinded Bucky all but completely, and he was within four feet of the other boy before he suddenly appeared out of the ever-shifting backdrop of gray.

Bucky didn’t care if Steve was furious with him, he didn’t have time from pleasantries. The storm was too violent, too dangerous, and Steve wasn’t the only one in danger if the stay out much longer. Grabbing the other boy’s shoulder without permission, and without warning, Bucky suddenly dragged Steve across the flooded street, toward the mansion’s foreboding figure. Steve was screaming something at him over the wind and drenching rain, but Bucky couldn’t hear, and neither did he care. Whatever it was could wait until they were safe.

Steve squirmed and pulled against him, still screaming strings of unintelligible profanities at him as Bucky dragged the bone-thin, sopping figure up the back steps. When the door to the mansion was hurled open, Steve had the good sense to become suddenly silent. Bucky wasn’t taking no for an answer, which meant whether he liked it or not, he was going into the Barnes’ mansion, and getting caught could bring nothing but pain.

Leading the silent, viciously tense Steve, Bucky weaved cautiously through long unused halls, taking staff staircases, and ducking through connecting rooms to avoid approaching footsteps. Finally, Bucky pulled open a door, and pushed Steve into his own room, closing, and locking the door behind him.

"Steve you could have gotten _killed_ out there!" Bucky snapped, wheeling around to face him, his voice laced with concern, and frustration. For the first time since leaving Steve off at the end of his block, Bucky soaked in a long look at him. At the moment, in the dark of Bucky’s room, he couldn’t have appeared more unlike the boy he’d seen off six days ago. He looked battered, and exhausted. His golden hair, darkened by the rain, clung to the sides of his gaunt, drawn face, his expression twisted in a bitter mixture of hurt, anger and betrayal.

Suddenly afraid, Bucky reached out, snatching Steve’s wrist and dragging back his sleeve, exposing the boy’s hand. _Five fingers_ …A gasp of relief escaped Bucky’s lips, and Steve suddenly wrenched his wrist from his hand.

" _You_ -" Steve spat, his voice shaking, throat so tight he could hardly speak. "Your _goon_ brakes into our house like a fucking _madman_ , hitting dad, yelling, talking about how we can’t get away with trying to go behind the ‘boss’s’ back, saying we needed another remind of who owned this city." Steve retold, suddenly trembling with shock and fury. "Said we needed to be taught a lesson…then he cut off dad’s finger…"

Bucky’s stomach plunged sickly, the look of betrayal on Steve’s face enough to make him nauseous, even without the mental image of Mr. Rogers clutching his bleeding stump. “Steve-” He started weakly, but the cold poison in Steve’s stare dried up the words in his throat.

"You _promised_." Steve accused. "You said you’d _help_ us and I actually _believed_ you!" The young boy swallowed hard, praying for his voice not to betray him. He felt like someone had taken a knife and slashed gaping, bleeding gashes into his heart, because of all the ways Steve had been preparing for Bucky to betray him, this was the one he’d finally ruled out. Because despite all his walls, and barriers that he kept to protect himself, Steve had finally softened enough to believe that Bucky had genuinely wanted to help him, that he’d gone to bat for him…protected him…Steve had let himself believe that there was something in Bucky that wasn’t purely selfish. And now he had to face the reality that he’d been wrong, and that Bucky really was an arrogant, spoiled, manipulative bastard with no regard for anyone he couldn’t fuck.

A bone-chilling cold crept through Steve’s body, and he stepped back away from Bucky, shuddering. “You fucking- selfish bastard-” he choked, his voice weakening, breaking despite all his resolve. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t give Bucky the satisfaction of crying. Steve blinked back the burning in his eyes, lifting his chin, meeting Bucky’s gaze with aggressive hostility, and suddenly stopped cold.

Bucky was staring at him, and why wouldn’t he? Steve was a five-foot, 97-pound, concentration of pure hurt and rage. He was soaking wet, shivering, _defenseless_ , and still bearing his teeth at him like a rabid dog, but the expression written so clearly across Bucky’s face was nothing like what he’d expected. The game was over, Steve knew. Bucky should have been aloof, maybe even smirking, indulging in a sadistic pleasure at Steve’s helpless anger and pain, but he _wasn’t_.

The expression of shattered, guilt-tormented anguish on Bucky’s face set Steve reeling. He looked wrecked, his tortured expression begging forgiveness.

"Steve-" He broke in again, moving forward slowly, "I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry Steve, I didn’t- I wasn’t good enough- I tri- I- I _tried,_ I swear to god Steve, I didn’t-" Bucky choked back the words, incomplete fragments tumbling over each other in an unintelligible mess. He swallowed; his gaze locked on Steve’s gaunt face, which had grown alarmed as he moved towards him, the boy easing away. "I swear Steve, I talked to my dad, he said he was going to leave you alone- he promised- he- I- I thought he believed me- I- oh god, Steve this is all my fault…"

The look of alarm that had been frozen on Steve’s face suddenly cracked, and then splintered, the masked shattering away as tears began to escape down his hollow cheeks. Until just now, his anger had been what he had relied on. Everything else had been torn away from him, and all Steve had been left with to hold his shattered heart together was the rage of knowing Bucky had betrayed him, and now that was gone too. Bucky’s plea was broken, raw, and honest, his emotions uncharacteristically exposed, and Steve couldn’t look at him in such a state and honestly believe that this had been what Bucky had wanted. But now, he was helpless.

“What are we supposed to do?” He managed, his voice soft, broken, his shattered expression reflecting his helpless pain and fear. Bucky’s chest suddenly tightened with an aching pity. He didn’t know if this meant that Steve believed him, but the aggression had gone. Steve’s shoulders gave a sudden violent tremor, and look of horror washed over his face. “There’s no way out of this…” He whispered hoarsely. “We either starve, or your dad kills us…” His chest was heaving, too short, too rapid. “There’s no way out- there’s no-”

"Steve!" Bucky moving forward suddenly, taking Steve’s gaunt face in the palms of his hands. He lifted his chin, guiding the boy back until he cradled Steve’s tiny, soaking body against the wall, closing him in, grounding him to something solid, protecting him. "Breath, y’gotta breath for me, okay sweetheart?" He pressed urgently. "Exhale alright? Yer gonna pass out. Exhale for me."

Steve dragged in another short breath, beginning to feel dizzy, and lightheaded. His anxiety was through the room, and Steve knew he was on the verge of a panic attack, if he didn’t get himself under control he would be incapacitated for hours, and he couldn’t afford that, not here, not right now. The younger boy forced himself to exhale, the motion setting his lungs on fire, and he hurriedly gulped another lungful of air, but Bucky’s grip tightened on his arms.

"Exhale Steve." Bucky ordered firmly, and this time, Steve complied more fully, managing to regulate a full breath out. "Good, good, there we go doll, now breath in, slow, and with me okay?" He coached, beginning to draw a deep breath through his nose. Steve mimicked him, the breath choppy, and uneven, but slow. "Good…" Bucky whispered, and catching Steve’s gaze purposefully, began slowly breathing out.

A few long, deep breaths began to clear Steve’s mind. All the panic, and fear, and anxiety still churned inside him, just under the skin, but Steve had it where he could manage it now. The fear wasn’t running away with his head. And as Steve’s mind cleared, he became suddenly aware of how close Bucky was. The older boy stood directly in front of him, their soaking chests pressed together, Bucky’s damp bangs clinging to Steve’s brow as their foreheads rested together. His hands were gentle, and soft, moving tenderly from his shoulders to his cheeks as he tenderly cradled the boy’s face.

"Good boy," He whispered softly, his eyelids fluttering closed as their chest rose, and fell in sync, his thumbs gently brushing his damp cheekbones. "That’s my good Stevie…breath sweet boy…I’ve got you…"

Steve felt his throat tightening painfully, although he still forced himself to consciously breath, and he suddenly reached forward, his fingers curling into the front of Bucky’s clinging shirt. “Don’t lie to me Bucky…” He rasped painfully, his question heavy in his tongue. “Did you mean for this to happen? I just want the truth…we’re you using me?”

Bucky drew Steve in closer, a soft sound escaping his lips as his wet fingers clung to Steve’s jaw. “No-” he murmured, “I swear Steve…I didn’t want this, I just- I fucked up, god- I fucked up so bad, I- I tried-”

"Bucky-"

Bucky’s voice broke off and he slowly raised his eyes. Steve was staring at him, his expression conflicted, but a bitter smile touched just the corners of his mouth.

"I believe you."

Bucky swallowed hard, still nauseous with guilt despite Steve’s reassurance. Steve looked haggard, and weary. He was frightened, and confused, and desperate, but the aggression had faded from his body. Steve believed him…How Bucky had gotten so luck he had no idea. He’d expected that this was the end, that Steve would hate him, that he would slip back to loathing, and despising Bucky…that he’d never trust him again…Bucky didn’t know what he’d done to gain back Steve’s trust, but he didn’t want to give it up. 

“Yer not just saying that?” Bucky asked in a low tone, his hands sliding unconsciously from Steve’s jaw to the sides of his skinny neck. 

Steve gave a little scoff, his gaze dropping down. “Buck…You left me forty six message…you kept calling even after my inbox was full, and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you act this scattered before…You…always seem to know what to say, and just now…you couldn’t even string together a full sentence….I believe you.” He murmured, his frozen, bone-thin fingers twisting absently at the front of Bucky’s wet shirt. 

Bucky managed a shallow nod, the reality of Steve’s trust still not quite sinking in. He wasn’t wrong, Bucky always had a quip, or a sarcastic jab for everything, but at the realization of what had happened to Steve’s family because of him, Bucky’s silver tongue had turned to lead. He’d tripped and fumbled through apologies and pleas for forgiveness, his thoughts jarring around in his head, as loud and concussive as the thunder outside. The broken stammering had been all he was capable of.

Suddenly, Bucky steadied him, stepping back from Steve just a pace, his mind snapping back to the problem at hand. “Okay.” He said shortly, dragging a deep breath through his nose. “Okay, what needs to happen, right now, what do we need to do?”

Steve faltered, still resting against the wall, feeling suddenly cold without Bucky’s body against his own.

Bucky wheeled back towards him, closing the distance between them and earnestly gripping his boney shoulders. “Steve! Does your dad need to get to a hospital?” He demanded firmly, his gaze fierce and calculating. 

“We can’t afford it.” 

“It’s my fault, I’ll pay for it,” Bucky countered shortly, turning to pace away again when Steve’s hand flashed out, grabbing his forearm. 

“You _can’t_. I could never explain that to them, and I _know_ they’d never accept it, not from you. I don’t know if you remember but you didn’t exactly make a _stellar_ first impression.” 

Bucky snarled under his breath, jaw set in helpless frustration. He couldn’t do a single fucking thing right could he? He couldn’t even pay for the medical expenses without the Rogers ultimately retuning the money and having to pay an arm and a leg in medical bills anyways. With all his power and all his resources, how could he still be so fucking _useless_?

Steve could feel the guilt and frustration building inside of Bucky’s body. Tension radiated up his arm. His anger and helplessness was contagious, twisting Steve’s gut into knots, but he shook it off. He couldn’t let that suck him in the way it was sucking in Bucky. Bucky had kept him grounded before, now it was Steve’s turn to return the favor. 

“Bucky,” He coaxed, his voice low and even as he tightened his grip on the older boy’s forearms. ”Listen to me. Ma’s with him, she’s a nurse, she’ll make sure he’s okay…He was in shock when I left, but she had the bleeding under control, said he was gonna come out of it…” As Steve spoke, he felt his own niggle of guilt in the pit of his stomach. When he left, he hadn’t been thinking. The only though in his mind had been getting to Bucky, demanding an explanation, making him face up to what he’d done to them…Now Steve was wondering if he should have stayed. Logic told him that he couldn’t have been much help. His mother needed her space to work. But what happened when his father was stable, and they realized he was gone? After their family had been so openly attacked, Steve knew they would worry for him…But his only hope of fixing this disaster might be here, and even if it was only a slim chance, Steve had to take it. 

Swallowing, Steve released Bucky’s arm, slowly easing back against the bedroom wall. It was solid, and immovable, the support grounding Steve to reality. Bucky, his shoulder’s still tense, turned back to stare at him, searching, desperate. “Steve, I wanna fix this…” Bucky said tightly, his gaze dropping as he reached out, his fingers tentatively grazing Steve’s forearm. “I want to take care you and your family, make sure my dad won’t hurt you…but I don’t know how…Steve, I fucked this up so bad I can’t even see which way’s up…I want to help…but I- I don’t know how to fix this…”

Steve lifted the pale oval of his face, meeting Bucky’s conflicted gaze, and he instinctively knew that his trust hadn’t been a mistake.  The emotion on Bucky’s face was clear; total helplessness. Nothing in Bucky wanted to see Steve hurt, nothing in him wanted to see Steve’s family suffer, but Bucky was suddenly face with the cold reality of his hands being completely and utterly tied for the first time in his life. 

Slowly, his heart racing in his chest, Steve reached up, his finger’s lacing across the back of Bucky’s neck. “Me neither…” Steve confided, and Bucky huffed a bitter little laugh. God what a pair they made; two desperate, frightened boys, standing chest to chest in a dark bedroom, neither of them seeing a way out of their situation, but both drawing comfort from the presence of the other. 

At the gentle pressure on the back of his neck, Bucky eased forward, carefully, tentatively, until his forehead brush against Steve’s wet bangs. Lighting cracked outside and for just a moment, Steve’s pale face was illuminated in the darkness, his lips damp, and parted, eyes wide with conflicted desperation. The light was gone, leaving a blotching impression on Bucky’s eyes, momentarily blinding him, but the image of Steve’s expression was seared into his memory. “Stevie…” He whispered, and a shiver ran up his spine as he felt the other boy’s breath on his lips. “I really wanna kiss you…will y’let me?” For a very long moment, silence hung between them in the darkness. Bucky wet his lips, tipping his head down with a faint, resigned smile when he suddenly felt the soft brush of Steve’s mouth against his own. 

The contact sent electricity crackling down his spine, Steve’s lush, damp lips pressing tenderly against his. Momentarily shocked, Bucky fumbled, his hands touching lightly against Steve’s arms before he gathered his wits. Coming back to himself, Bucky moved his hands up, artfully cupping Steve’s jaw in his hand and tenderly cradling him closer. He tasted like desire, and desperation, and smelled like rain, his slender fingers curling back into the front of his shirt as his frightfully thin body pressed against him. He felt smaller than before, tiny, and soaking wet, his little body trembling as he pulled Bucky closer. A soft, panting sigh escaped Bucky’s lips, and he carefully guided Steve’s head, tipping it to the side as he tenderly matched the soft curve of his mouth against Steve’s cold lips. 

A tiny breath of space broke between their lips, and Steve drew in a shaky breath, his eyes closed, dark lashes clinging to his wet cheeks. Bucky, his breathing a little uneven, gently rubbing his thumbs across Steve’s cheeks, soothing him, coaxing him to relax. By now, Bucky’s hands had warmed, his body no longer chilled, but Steve still trembled with cold. He’d been out in the bitter rain for much longer than Bucky had, and his weak, fragile body was frozen deep into his bones. 

“Steve you’re frigid…” Bucky whispered, nuzzling closer as he gently pried Steve’s fingers free of his shirt. Wrapping them in his wide palm, Bucky brought the bone-thin hands up to his mouth, blowing warm air across them, trying to coax a little warmth and life back into them.  “You need to get into something dry.” He murmured between breaths, and Steve suddenly moved to free his hands. 

“I can’t stay,” He protested, but Bucky kept his hold on Steve’s fingers.

“I can’t let you go. You’ll freeze to death if you go back out there.” Bucky countered, shifting them into one hand and clasping them against his warm chest as he drew Steve’s face up. “Let me take care of you, okay doll?” he murmured, daring to drop another gentle kiss against Steve’s cold lips. 

Shuddering under the sudden, tender care, Steve pressed into the kiss, aching for Bucky’s touch. He had always been so independent, so self-reliant, anything to prove that he was more that his physical weakness and disabilities, that Steve had seldom let himself be cared for. He’d never let himself rely on someone to comfort, and protect him, because he had always been so wary of being though of as weak…as a burden. But Steve didn’t feel weak when Bucky clutched his cold hands against his chest and returned the kiss with soft, warm lips; he felt  _loved_.

Bucky’s hand slipped to Steve’s chin, his thumb brushing lightly along the plush swell of Steve’s lower lip. God the kid’s lips were fuckin’ perfect! Bucky couldn’t get enough of them. He couldn’t get enough of how they quivered just a little bit when Bucky kissed him, how they parted in tiny, suppressed gasps, and how the wind chap on them caught on Bucky’s mouth. Bucky soaked in their softness, soaked in the traces of moisture lingering on them. Daring to push a little deeper, Bucky let his lips part, ever so softly grazing the tip of his tongue against the seam of Steve’s lips.

The younger boy shivered, but Bucky didn’t have even a moment to doubt Steve’s willingness before he parted his lips, allowing Bucky’s tongue to dip tentatively inside. Bucky pressed the kiss deeper, feeling Steve’s hesitant curiosity as he returned the gesture. The blond’s tongue bumped tactlessly against his, and Bucky found himself smile against his mouth. Steve had never tried this before…so Bucky focused on making it good, softly licking into the younger boy’s mouth as Steve slowly figured out how to match his pace. “Fast learner…” He murmured against the blond’s mouth, only to have Steve tug him back in with a muffled whine. 

Bucky blinked in surprise, feeling warmth flood his body as Steve clutched the front of his shirt, desperate, and needy. The other boy’s eagerness tugged at something inside him, and Bucky felt heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. But he couldn’t move too fast. He couldn’t press Steve, not if he wasn’t ready.

“Hey-” He managed, breaking the kiss, his upper lip still clinging momentarily to Steve as he pulled back. “ _Easy_ baby doll, don’t get ahead of yourself…”

Steve’s fingers tightened, bunching the damp material of his shirt as he gave a soft, suppressed moan. “Bucky-” He breathed shortly, moving forward and craning his neck for another kiss. 

Bucky stopped him short, his hand held, palm toward Steve, his fingertips resting against his lips. “Dry clothes first.” he ordered. “You’ll freeze even in here if you don’t get out of those wet things.”

A soft, distresses sigh escaped Steve as Bucky pulled back, suddenly deprived of the warmth, and sense of security. He was tired, and scared and uncertain. He didn’t know whether he or his family were even going to survive the night, and he wanted comfort. He craved Bucky’s touch, craved the feeling of his warm lips against his own, and the thrilling, unfamiliar sensation of Bucky’s tongue licking into his mouth. He wanted to feel his strong, muscular body cradling him against the wall, warming his narrow frame with his touch.

Reluctantly, Bucky pulled away, turning suddenly and walking over to his dresser. If he didn’t walk away now, he might never, especially with Steve clinging to his shirt, and making those fucking gorgeous, breathy sighs against his lips. The sounds that kid made had Bucky nearly weak at the knees, his resolve crumbling with every pretty little moan and whimper Steve gave him. Trying his hardest to ignore the twitch of arousal in the confines of his soaking jean, Bucky dropped to his knees, fumbling through his dresser drawers for something comfortable and warm. 

There was no use denying it, Bucky loved to preen. He hardly stepped out of his room unless he taken a considerable amount of time fussing over himself until his outfit was perfectly rumpled, under his hair was tousled just casually enough to look like he hadn’t tried. His clothing served the purpose of drawing the eye of anyone he passed, accenting the narrow cut of his waist, and the smooth muscles of his thighs and calves. His clothing was instrumental, it wasn’t geared for comfort, it was geared for style. 

That being said, Bucky finally seized a pair of sweatpants that had been stuffed into the back corner of one of the drawers. It had been a long time since they had seen any use, and they were probably too small for him now, although that would suit Steve just fine. 

“Here,” Bucky murmured softly, pressing the sweatpants, and a plain white, long sleeved shirt into Steve’s arms. “Get dry,” He pressed, before offering him a subtle wink, “Promise I won’t peek.” With that, Bucky turned his back to Steve, crossing his arms at his waist and tugging his wet shirt over his own head.  

Steve flushed delicately at the teasingly flirtatious remark, Bucky’s wink sending a prickle up the back of his neck. Slowly, Steve set the pile of soft clothing on to the floor, pulling his shirt off and laying it down where he wouldn’t loose track of it. He didn’t like undressing around other people, it made him feel exposed; inadequate. It made him hyper aware of how his thin, knobby bones seemed to press out against his even thinner, paper-like skin. It seemed to exaggerate the twist at the base of his spine, and the way his ribs protruded over his concave stomach. He hated how sharp his hipbones were, how far his collarbones seemed to stick out, and how the ridges of his spine outlined themselves under his fragile skin…Steve glanced up quickly, making sure that Bucky had kept his word, and kept his back turned.

A sound that bordered a full on whine suddenly escaped Steve’s throat.

Bucky was facing away, the powerful cords of muscle in his back flexing as he bent to tug his jeans off his hips. As a flash of lighting lit the room, the wet fabric dropped around his ankles, and Steve could see the perfect, firm curve of Bucky’s gorgeous ass, outlined all too clearly in the clinging black boxers. His thighs and calves were sculpted with muscle and, in the brief light; Steve caught just a gimps of his strong arms, his hands moving to the waistband of his shorts.

At the noise, Bucky blinked, turning with a little frown. “Stevie? Y’okay?” He asked, and suddenly stopped dead. In the dim room, Bucky could make out the pale slash of Steve’s skin in the darkness, his torso exposed, delicate hands frozen on the waistband of his jeans. His skin looked porcelain white against the dark background, chin tipped down against his deliciously sharp collarbones. Another crack of lightning, and Bucky caught a glimpse of his perfect hipbone, and it was everything he could do not to drop to his knees that instant and press a trail of kisses over each one. 

Steve faltered, his mouth suddenly dry, face scarlet with embarrassment. Not only had Bucky heard his fucking _pathetic_ whine of desperation, but he was _looking_ at him. Steve’s hand slid up, self-consciously covering his prominent collarbone as he dropped his gaze away hurriedly. “Fine,” He said shortly, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Bucky took Steve in with a sweep of his gaze, trying to recall what exactly he’d seen in the other boy’s eye. It could have been jealously, but Bucky didn’t think so. Steve had been staring at him, his gaze seared with longing, and a kind of lustful craving. Maybe Bucky was crazy, maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see, but Steve _wanted_ him. 

Steeling his resolved, Bucky suddenly stepped over to the younger boy, keeping his stride relaxed, his eyes touched with curiosity. “Hey sugar,” He coaxed softly, and Steve abruptly hunched his boney shoulder angling his body away from him. 

“You said you weren’t gonna look.” Steve accused weakly, feeling the scarlet flush in his cheeks deepen as Bucky’s gaze bored into his exposed body. He swallowed, nervous, embarrassed, and uncomfortably aroused by Bucky’s proximity. Everything in him that craved Bucky’s touch suddenly conflicted with his desire to hide himself, cover his tiny, frail body with shapeless clothing to hide the too-sharp edges of his bones beneath his fragile skin. He wanted to shrink away, to snap at Bucky to turn around and stop staring, to-

Bucky’s lips touch, warm, and soft against the cap of Steve’s bare shoulder. The boy froze, fingers still pressed into his collarbone, his opposite hand clutching the band of his wet slacks. His weak heart practically froze in his chest.

Bucky was silent, his breath ghosting across Steve’s skin as he leaned in, gently prying Steve’s fingers away to kiss at his collarbone. His warm, damp mouth touched softly against Steve’s body, feeling his frame so close under his skin, his heart racing inside his narrow ribcage. He laid lines of kisses across his collarbone, slowly turning his head to gently tuck his mouth against the curve of Steve’s slender neck.

Steve swallowed back a whine, suddenly conflicted, because it felt so fucking _good_ , but a lifetime of insecurities pressed him to try and pulled away. “Bucky-” He whispered, feeling Bucky’s wide, warm palms move to rest just over the cut of his hipbones, framing the jutting knobs perfectly under his gorgeous hands. “Don’t, Bucky- _stop_ -” He whispered helplessly, but his hands betrayed him, moving to touch softly against Bucky’s waist. The other boy’s skin felt hot compared to his frozen fingers, and it sent a crackle of electricity through his body, his lips moving, helpless, and silent. Steve could feel his cock hardening in the front of his jeans, the sensitive skin pressing painfully against his zipper, Bucky’s touch arousing him more than he’d like to admit.

Bucky’s confidence wavered, and he touched a thoughtfully light kiss just below Steve’s ear. “You really want me too, baby doll?” He whispered, his tone gentle…almost…concerned. “I _will_ , promise I will…” Inhaling deeply, Bucky gently soothed his hands along Steve’ narrow, boney sides, rubbing up and down along his ribs as the younger boy shuddered beneath his gentle ministrations.

“No…” Steve whispered softly, and Bucky continued to rub his palms comfortingly along his sides.

“ _No_ what Sweetheart? Talk to me…”

Steve swallowed hard, weak under Bucky’s touch. “Don’t- I’m sorry. Don’t stop, please…”

Relief crept, warm, through Bucky’s body, the tension in his shoulders easing as Steve managed to articulate what he wanted. Smiling, Bucky gently pulled away from Steve’s neck and caught his mouth in a tender kiss. 

Steve arched into the touch, pressing his shivering body against Bucky’s his body just beginning to relax under the intoxicating kiss when Bucky abruptly pulled away. Steve blinked, for a moment, daze, the addictive effect of Bucky’s kiss suddenly yanked away from him. “Bucky?” He asked, dragging in a steadying breath.

Bucky stood against him, staring down before he lifted his gaze to Steve, the kind of smirk lingering on his mouth that Steve knew spelled trouble. “Got a little problem there, Stevie?” He whispered, his voice low, and suggestive, and Steve realized with a thrill of embarrassed horror that Bucky could feel the stiffness in the front of his jeans. 

He pulled back abruptly, scarlet in the darkness suddenly trying to put as much distance between himself and Bucky as possible when Bucky’s strong hand around his wrist stopped him dead. 

“Hey- Hey, It’s okay,” He breathed, taking Steve’s shoulder despite his feeble, mortified attempts to pull away again, and drawing him closer. "It’s okay…It’s okay…” Long, slender finger’s trailed down the skin and bone of Steve’s arm, gently moving to guide his hand forward. “You’re okay Stevie…” Bucky intoned, his voice sounding distant as he coaxed Steve’s fragile hand forward, guiding it over and pressing it against his lap.

Steve felt a shock run through him, his mind snapping into vivid focus as Bucky pressed his hand against the outline of his hardened cock through his clinging black boxers. He startled, his hand twitching with uncertainty before he steadied himself. Embarrassment warred with curiosity, and arousal inside of him and Steve swallowed back the knot that was beginning to form in his throat. His hands were unsteady, he could feel them shaking. Bucky could feel them too. Steeling his nerves, Steve eased closer, and very tentatively, trailed his fingers over the outline of Bucky’s erection. The older boy stifled a moan, his head tipping forward as he pressed closer against Steve, aching for the touch, leaning into the sensation of Steve’s fingers sliding over his cock. The gentle little nudges, and brushes of Steve’s fingers were maddeningly light, and Bucky could feel himself straining against the cotton, aching for the stimulation.

“Steve-” He breathed, the sound low, and heady as he pressed forward, guiding Steve backwards until he stopped, the backs of his knobby knees nudging the bed frame. _God_ he wanted this. The closer he got the more he wanted Steve. His head was spinning, delirious with arousal, but a part of him was still in sharp focus, keenly aware that if Steve wanted to stop, then that was the bottom line. 

The smaller boy barely flinched when Bucky pressed him against the bed. He was too distracted by their closeness, the feeling of Bucky’s breath on his neck, the chests pressed together, Bucky’s cock straining, and twitching under his hesitant touch. Steve knew this wasn’t rational, _fuck,_ it probably wasn’t necessarily _smart_ either, but he ached for Bucky’s touch. He wanted him so badly it hurt, and Bucky seemed more than willing to indulge him. _Probably too willing,_ a tiny voice whispered in the back of his head, _he could still be using you…when you give him what he wants he gonna throw you out…_ But Steve stuffed the little voice away, boxing it up, and letting himself, for a short, thoughtless while, forget about it. 

“Hey…Steve- Steve, look at me, focus baby…”

Steve lifted his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his body flushed with desire. “What?” He managed, his tiny voice almost lost in the dark, quite room. 

Bucky was staring down at him, eyes wide, and earnest. He wet his lips; pupils blow out to nearly solid black in the darkness. “Tell me what you want…” He breathed, reining back his desire to take Steve right then and there. “I want you to tell me what you want, and I swear I’m not gonna do anything to you if y’don’t want it…”

Bucky’s direct words took him by surprise, and Steve faltered, suddenly confronted by how painfully inexperienced he was. “I-I don’t know-” He stammered breathlessly, his fingers unconsciously curling into the waistband of Bucky’s underwear.

"Okay," Bucky murmured, trying to ignore the painful crackle of arousal that ran through him as Steve’s cold fingers brushed across his pubic bone. "Okay, think about it for a bit…no rush…" Reached forward, Bucky tenderly cradled Steve’s jaw in his free hand, tugging him close for a for a tender, close-mouthed kiss. "Won’t be mad at’cha if you say no…" He whispered, and Steve’s head abruptly snapped up.

"No-" he said shortly, his hands tightening on his waistband. "No, I- I want you, I just, I’ve never-"

"I know,” Bucky pressed, and Steve huffed a tense little sigh. Steve wanted this, wanted _him_ , but he had no idea how to go about it. Smiling affectionately, Bucky kissed Steve’s forehead, smoothing his hands over his wet hair. "That’s okay…everyone starts somewhere…let me lead, and we’ll go good and slow…"

Steve made a soft whining sound in the back if his throat, sighing in desperation as he let Bucky ease him back on the bed. Bucky’s giant mattress sunk under his slender body, cushioning him, enveloping him in warmth, and softness. The sensation was so unfamiliarly wonderful that Steve almost startled in alarm as Bucky eased over top of him.

"Alright baby…" He murmured, his figure hazy in the intimate darkness of the room, but his weight over top of him was solid, and real. "Just relax for me, relax, and tell me if you need to stop…" It felt strange, putting so much care and emphasis on Steve’s consent. Usually, Bucky made do with one or two words. _‘Y’good?’ ‘Yeah.’_ But not with Steve, no _,_ with Steve he wanted it to be so much _more_ and he wanted Steve to feel comfortable and secure the whole time. He never wanted Steve to wonder if Bucky was going to hurt him ever again.

The significance of Bucky’s care wasn’t lost on Steve. He was inexperienced, and unaccustomed to intimate affection, but in a way, so was Bucky. Steve had never had another person touch him; kiss him the way Bucky was. Bucky had never _loved_ anyone before, and he’d never had sex with someone for more than his own selfish pleasure. In a way, it was a first for both of them.

Steve let his tense, cold body relax against the soft mattress closing his eyes, determined to stay soft, and pliable under Bucky’s touch. He knew what he was doing, he wouldn’t hurt him. But suddenly, Steve found it impossible to stay still for a different reason _entirely_.

Bucky’s perfect, wet mouth suddenly grazed up Steve’s chest, the older boy kissing, and sucking at his fragile skin, coaxing blossoms of pink flush to the surface. Steve lurched in surprise his fingers flying to Bucky’s hair as a raw gasp escaped him. The reaction spurred Bucky on, and he pressed closer, trailing kisses from Steve’s navel up to his ribs. He could feel the boy shivering under his hands; the delightful, desperate little gasps and whines making Bucky’s cock ache with arousal. _Slow_ , he had to go _slow_. Bucky touched the tip of his wet, pink tongue to Steve’s skin, licking a hot strip up to his collar bone before beginning to work back down. He exhaled shakily, breathing a soft moan as he sealed his mouth over one perfect, flushed nipple.

The boy gasped, his finger tightening urgently through Bucky’s hair as he felt the hot suction on his nipple. Bucky’s mouth was wet, his tongue brushing in skilled, practiced movements over the hard little nub of flesh, teasing it erect. Steve released a desperate moan, his hips jerking as Bucky sucked on his chest, teasing the sensitive flesh between his teeth. “Bucky-” he choked, helplessly aroused as he felt Bucky’s mouth curl into a smile against his skin.

Continuing to gently suckle on Steve’s pretty little nipple, Bucky’s hands moved deftly to Steve’s jeans. He freed the button, feeling the zipper drag across Steve’s erect member, the boy whining at the sensation. He eased off Steve’s nipple, giving it a gentle little flick with his tongue before he pulled back.

" _Relax_ ," he murmured, his voice a low, gentle reminder. "Relax baby boy…gonna take good care of you…" Bending his head again, Bucky kiss a soft trail across Steve’s chest until he was able to get the neglected nipple in his mouth, laving it with the kind of attention that made Steve squirm. He carefully pinched it between his front teeth, his tongue still pressing against the nub, rubbing it skillfully.

To the sounds of Steve’s pretty little gasps and shaky breathing, Bucky tugged Steve’s jeans off his hips, dragging his wet, clinging boxer off with them. “Good boy,” he whispered, shedding his own boxers as he kissed once over his nipple before nuzzling into the side of his neck. “There we go…there we go…how do you feel Stevie? Okay? Too fast?”

"Good-" Steve panted, reigning in his thoughts which had scattered everywhere the moment Bucky’s mouth had touched his skin. "Good- fucking- feels fucking _amazing_ \- Bucky-" he breathed, clutching his fingers desperately through his hair. "Don’t stop, please- I- you gotta-"

"Okay," Bucky relented, his stomach bubbling with warmth, and he cradled Steve’s face for a slow, tender kiss. "Okay…" He whispered, "I won’t…I won’t, lay still…"

Steve suppressed a groan. Of all the things Bucky asked of him that was the most unreasonable. How the _fuck_ could Bucky expect him to lie still when he’s using his mouth like that? When he’s sucking on his nipples and driving Steve absolutely fucking _insane_? Still, he tipped his head back, swallowing hard and trying to focus on staying still.

Bucky smirked into the darkness. Steve could squirm all he wanted and Bucky would still be able to make him feel absolutely incredible, but the meaner part of Bucky liked to see him trying so hard. He liked to see Steve biting down on his lip, his eyes squeezed closed as he tried not to move. Bucky liked to see how far he could push him until Steve was writhing in delight, squirming and arching under him with all those beautiful, _filthy_ noises.

Bucky moved away from Steve’s mouth, kissing back down his chest, this time, following over his concave stomach down to his hips. The dark hair boy exhaled, his breath ghosting over Steve’s skin and he nuzzled his mouth against the dirty blond thatch of hair at the base of his cock. “So pretty…” He murmured appreciatively, the other boy’s cock twitching with arousal. “You’re cock’s so pretty baby doll…fuck, Stevie you’re _perfect_ …”

Steve swallowed, trying desperately to remain still, but Bucky’s breath was hot on his sensitive skin, and his hip spasmed, jerking involuntarily.

A low, affectionate snicker escaped Bucky, and he leaned closer.Noting  Steve’s reaction, he purposely exhaled, long and slow across the boy’s cock, and was rewarded by a whine of desperation. “Y’like that? Just stay nice and still for me baby…” He whispered, as desperate to get his mouth around Steve’s cock as Steve was to feel it. Ducking his head, Bucky swept his tongue over his lips and slowly took Steve’s cock into his mouth.

 _Fuck_. Steve’s dick felt _perfect_. The weight of it rested, hot, and heavy on Bucky’s tongue, bigger than he expected, but it fit in his mouth like he was made for him. It was perfect, it felt fucking perfect, and Bucky pushed forward greedily. Steve moans of wreaked pleasure sounded dim, and muted, Bucky’s head spinning from the sudden, overwhelming perfection of Steve’s taste. The boy’s precome was musky, and salty on his tongue, and Bucky moaned around his cock, sucking deeply.

White spots burst in front of Steve’s eyes, his head swimming from the dump of adrenalin and endorphins. All he knew was he had been missing out. How had he never done this before? Bucky’s hot, wet mouth around his cock was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt, and his breathy gasps and moans suddenly pitched urgently.

Bucky, coming back down from the initial daze, refocused on his technique. He drew back slowly, his mouth sliding along Steve’s shaft, leaving it wet with saliva. He groaned, sucking on just the head of Steve’s cock, his tongue pressing, firm, and wet against his weeping slit.

Steve’s orgasm hit him out of nowhere. He lurched, arching off the bed with a wrecked gasp, hands bunched in the silk sheets as shudders wracked his fragile body.

Bucky startled, jerking back in surprise as Steve came abruptly, streaking his hips and chest with white. He blinked, shocked, traces of Steve’s come splattering his cheeks and the corners of his mouth. “ _Steve_ -” he managed, the boy dropping back with a violent shudder.

"Sorry-" Steve blurted, trembling all over, his body shaking for the sudden force of his orgasm. As his vision focused, he could just make out Bucky’s expression through the darkness, shocked, and frozen, and shame coiled hot in the pit of his stomach. "Sorry-" he stammered, struggling to sit up, his limbs like jello. "Buck- I- I’m sorry- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to ruin it, I-"

"Hey-" Bucky said suddenly, snapping out of his daze as he eased forward, grabbing Steve’s face in his hands. "Hey, hey, look at me sweetheart, look at me, okay sugar? You didn’t ruin anything." He assured him softly, the younger boy still tense as he pushed him carefully onto his back, following him down until he was braced over him. Bucky pressed close, his thumbs brushing tenderly across the boy’s cheekbones as he feather gentle kisses across his cheeks and jaw. "Fuck Steve…your so fucking _receptive_ …" He whispered in absolute awe. "Must’a _really_ liked me touchin’ you to have come that fast. It’s okay…it’s okay, y’didnt ruin anything…I promise…promise baby…"

Steve shuddered, still feeling guilt and shame twisting in his gut. “But I- it was too fast, you didn’t get t-”

"Hey, we’re only getting started, that was just a warm up, doll."

"I don’t know-"

"Can you relax for me for a little bit more?" Bucky asked, his hands moving to comfortingly stroke Steve’s thighs. "Just lay back, and breath, trust me…I won’t hurt you."

Steve exhaled shakily. His body felt weak, and sensitive after his orgasm, his limbs numb. He wasn’t sure what Bucky was going to do, and a part of his just wanted to go to sleep, but more than that, he wanted to trust Bucky. The boy swallowed once, and his eyes dropped closed. “Okay…” He whispered softly, letting his body relax. “Be gentle…”

Bucky nodded, touching a quick kiss to Steve’s slightly parted lips before moving back down between Steve’s thighs. This time, he didn’t take Steve’s cock in his mouth. First, he dropped to his side, stretching an arm under his bed for a small box of supplies. Once he’d recovered what he needed, Bucky straightened again. Leaning close, the brunet kissed the insides of Steve’s trembling thighs, sucking, and nipping gently at the skin until he was rewarded with a few breath sighs from his lover. He continued laving attention on Steve’s slender, pale thighs until he felt fully relaxed. Only then did Bucky apply a generous slick of lube to his finger and slide it between the soft, round cheeks of Steve’s ass.

Steve’s hips twitched under the touch but Bucky made a soothing sound in the back of his throat, continuing to kiss the younger boy’s thigh. After a moment, Bucky felt his slicked finger brush against the tight little knot of skin, and Steve shuddered again, the tremor running all the way through his frail body. “Easy Stevie…” Bucky whispered reassuring, just rubbing over the tight little bud with the tip of his index finger. He massaged his fingers over Steve’s entranced, rubbing it softly until a little of the tension began to give. Cautiously, Bucky gave a tentative little press, breaching Steve’s body with just the tip of his finger.

Steve dragged in a short breath, keeping his eyes closed. The sensation was bizarre, unfamiliar, and toeing between pleasure and pain. His body felt raw, and sensitive after his orgasm, but it was clear that Bucky was in no rush. He worked the single finger in tiny increments at a time, rubbing his tight, velvety insides with the tip until Steve began to feel a faint tugging in the pit of his stomach again.

Bucky knew that Steve was going to need time before he was ready again, but he may as well put it to good use. Steve was a virgin, and he was more than a little tense. He was going to need a lot of prep before he was ready to take him, and trading Steve’s comforting for _his_ pleasure was not a compromise he was willing to make.

As he worked, Steve grew more relaxed. He grew accustom to the feeling of Bucky’s finger inside of him, and before long, was able to take a second with little difficulty. Bucky paused frequently to add extra lube and to murmur reassurance to his companion, breathing quite encouragement a under his breath. ‘ _Such a good boy,’ ‘so pretty,’ ‘taking me so nice…_ ’ Bucky worked into Steve with aching care, stretching his body open slowly, and tenderly until Steve was squirming and stifling soft pants as Bucky effortlessly slid three fingers in and out of his velvety hole.

"Bucky-" Steve keened, surprised to find his prick hardening with arousal, his stomach flooded with heat as Bucky’s worked his fingers inside him. "Please, Bucky-"

"You want me?" Bucky whispered, his voice thick, and layered with lust and arousal. He’d been patient, and slow, and he didn’t regret those decisions, but Bucky’s neglected cock was throbbing painfully, aching for some kind of stimulation or relief. He’d been fucking his fingers in and out of Steve’s tight little ass for _god knows_ how long and now, all he wanted was to feel that glorious tightness around his cock.

"Yes," Steve panted, his legs spread out for him so beautifully, cock lifted against his soft, concave stomach, his ass twitching around Bucky’s fingers. Fuck if he wasn’t the prettiest thing Bucky had ever seen. The boy swallowed, his cheeks scarlet, eyes glassy with arousal. "Yes, I do, but you need a condom-" he said suddenly, his expression suddenly displaying a little more clarity.

"Don’t worry sweetheart," Bucky smirked, pausing to listen to Steve sudden, helpless cry of pleasure as he slid his fingers free. "I’ve got one right here." Bucky retrieved the condom that he’d laid on the corner of the mattress, lifting it to where Steve could see before tearing it open with his teeth. Snickering, Bucky rolled the rubber onto his cock, snatching the lube to slick himself up. "No…" He murmured under his breath, "I know I ain’t no Virgin Mary…You on the other hand, well-" he caught his eye, dropping a flirtatious wink. "-not for much longer."

Steve felt his stomach give a little twist of nervous anticipation, and he dragged in a steadying breath.

Bucky glanced up, watching his expression for a careful moment. “Not too late to say no…” He reminded him softly, and as quickly as the words had left his mouth, Steve lurched forward, grabbing Bucky and dragging him down into a kiss.

The older boy startled with surprise before sinking into the kiss. One hand moved up into Steve’s hair, gently tugged, and pulling at the soft blond locks, gauging his reaction. Steve released a breathy moan against Bucky’s lips, arching his back as his bone-thin fingers slid over his shoulders and sides. Satisfied with the reaction, Bucky twisted the fingers of his left hand into the locks of Steve’s hair, anchoring himself.

Steve’s legs were trembling as Bucky ran his thumb over his hole, gently pressing the loosened muscle to double check that Steve would be able to comfortably take him. The little bud twitched, and fluttered receptively under Bucky’s touch, and Steve managed a helpless moan. “Alright baby…” Bucky whispered, stooping to press a tender kiss to his soft stomach, before he eased forward.

Just the nudge of his cock against Steve’s entrance tore a moan from Bucky’s lips and he suddenly thought better of not taking care of himself a little bit while he’d been prepping Steve. His cock was throbbing with pain, aching for the relief that was just within reach. He was sensitive, and every brush against his straining dick sent a prickle of pain through his body. Getting into Steve’s tight little ass was going to be _agony_ , and Bucky couldn’t wait.

Still clutching a fistful of Steve’s golden blond hair, Bucky slowly eased forward. The tight ring of muscle resisted him at first, Steve squirming under his hands, when it suddenly gave, and the head of Bucky’s cock slipped into the velvety heat of Steve’s insides.

The boy yelped, his muscles contracting around Bucky’s cock so tightly that he let slip a hiss of pain. “It okay-” he comforted quickly, stuffing the discomfort as quickly as he could, not wanting to distract Steve. “It okay, I know it feels kinda weird, just relax…there we go…there we go, good boy…”

Steve felt a weak little smile touch his lips at Bucky’s praise, and he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

"There we go…" Bucky murmured, working into Steve slowly, pushing in, a few millimeters at a time before drawing back again, letting Steve adjust to his size. Three fingers almost hadn’t been enough. Steve’s pretty little ass stretched around the thickness of Bucky’s cock, already flushed, and puffy. The younger boy’s body was wracked with shivers, but his expression was slack with pleasure.

Slowly, just as before, Steve adjusted, and Bucky slid deeper, and deeper into his frail body.

"Fuck- fuck Steve-" Bucky panted, daring to thrust a little faster as Steve’s body seemed to draw him in. "Uh- fuck- baby…you feel so- ah- you’re perfect, fuck Steve you’re fuckin’ perfect-" he gasped, and a wrecked moan of pleasure tore from his lips as his balls smacked against Steve’s ass, his cock seated fully inside him.

Steve was a mess. Bucky was grateful that his room had proved to be mostly soundproof on numerous occasion, because the positively wrecked noises Steve was making was the only thing Bucky could hear, and fuck if they weren’t perfect. The blond hair boy gasped, and moaned with every thrust, his voice breaking as he cried out as Bucky’s long, thick cock filled him up. He shuddered, and whined, unable to keep his hands still as he clawed at Bucky’s bare back, yanking at his hair and gripping his boney fingers into his firm ass. He was so desperately needy, and Bucky had never seen anything hotter.

Shifting, Bucky grabbed Steve’s thighs and guided them up, carefully repositioning his young lover. Steve moaned, choking back a gasp as Bucky eased his thighs forward, lifting them over his shoulders as he bent Steve’s skinny body nearly in half. For just a moment, Steve was doubtful of the new position, and then Bucky thrust into him and the whole world exploded with white light.

Steve arched, crying aloud as the new position allowed Bucky’s cock to hit his sensitive prostate, sending electric racing through his body. Bucky smirked, keeping on hand anchored on Steve’s thigh, the other finding its way to Steve’s twitch cock. “You like that baby?” He whispered, thrusting his hips just right so that he hit Steve’s sweet spot square on, wrenching another cry from the boy. “Hmm sweetheart?” He pressed, curling his fingers around Steve’s prick and rubbing his thumb over the leaking slit.

Steve made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat, his short fingernails digging crescents into the back of Bucky’s neck. His mouth was frozen open in a silent cry of wrecked pleasure, his face flushed, brow damp with sweat. He was close, Bucky could feel it in the vibrations of his body, in the way his hips jerked uselessly, out of time with Bucky’s thrust.

"Bucky!" He managed, his chest heaving in short, breathy gasps, "Bucky- Bucky please! Please I- I need- I- I- _Bucky_!"

Grinning almost ferally, Bucky thrust deeper, Steve crying out and babbling in helpless, incoherent pleasure. His cock head was flushed almost purple, leaking milky precome all across his soft stomach, and Bucky gave it an easy tug, pulling, stroking, and twisting at the head until Steve was nearly crying with frustration.

"Go ahead Stevie," He coaxed softly, "go on baby, I wanna see you come…come for me precious."

Steve, his head spinning, completely delirious with pleasure, hardly registered Bucky’s words. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus, all he was aware of was Bucky’s hot hand curled around his prick, and the burst of wrecked pleasure that struck him every time Bucky thrust his thick, gorgeous cock into his ass.

For the second time that night, Steve felt his mind blank out with pleasure and his slender figure arched up off the bed, as he splattered Bucky’s hand with his come, the thick, milky fluid dripping in globs down his wrist.

Bucky stared as Steve climaxed, his cock suddenly gushing in his hand, the boy shivering as he dropped back onto the mattress, gasping, and panting, his expression twisted somewhere between pleasure and pain, and as he came down, he let escape a soft, high pitched whine of pleasure that sent Bucky over the edge. With two short thrusts, Bucky’s cock pulsed inside Steve’s tight ass, and he came, doubling forward with a moan. “Steve-” he gasped shortly, his fingers digging into his thigh, suddenly trembling all over. He’d gone suddenly blank, his mind devoid of anything but the waves of pleasure washing brought him and the feeling of Steve’s chest rising and falling under his own.

He must have spaced out for a second, or somehow nodded off, because Bucky found himself blinking to clear his vision, finding himself laying, almost on top of Steve, their legs tangled, on arm wrapped securely around his narrow chest. It was surreal to think that this was usually the time Bucky would be dressing, casually dismissing whoever it was he’d dragged back with him with little more than a goodbye…but now…now he was laying next to the prettiest boy he’d ever laid eyes on, made all the more beautiful by his thoughtless bravery, and gutsy refusal to accept injustice. He was smarter, and stronger, and more _vulnerable_ than Bucky had ever imagined, and all he wanted was to keep him right there. He wanted to keep him safe, and warm, snuggled in on the biggest, softest mattress money could buy, but most importantly, curled up against his chest, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, and the lingering undertones of sweat and rain.

The last thing Bucky wanted was to break the silence, but something in him nudge him to check on Steve. He’d been so careful, so gentle, that he couldn’t blow it now. Shifting the tiniest bit, Bucky looked down at Steve, and suddenly changed his mind.

He wasn’t asleep, Bucky didn’t think, but his eyes were closed, his gorgeous, swollen lips parted as he breathed deeply, and evenly. Sweat soaked the sheets underneath him and he finally felt warm to the touch. He looked comfortable, and safe, all his ironclad walls dropped away to expose a heart that had so desperately wanted someone’s love, and comfort. He looked peaceful, and Bucky slowly settled back in.

Maybe they couldn’t stay here for forever, but Bucky could afford to give Steve a few minutes to forget about the dangers that surrounded him. he could afford to give him a few minutes to feel peaceful, safe, and loved…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, this chapter gave me a hell of a time, but I hope it's worth it. Let me know what you guys think. :D


	7. Chapter 7

 

Steve felt himself come up out of sleep, slowly, comfortably, his body relaxed, and warm.  He was vaguely aware of the thick comforter draped over him, and of Bucky’s presence in the bed beside him. The older boy was curled around Steve’s tiny frame, their bare legs tangled together. His right hand rested, light, and gentle over Steve’s stomach. Bucky’s chest rose and fell in deep, even breathes, his long, dark lashes kissing his pale cheekbones. As Steve blinked himself awake, even in the almost complete darkness, he could make out his lover’s face. Bucky looked as relaxed, and peaceful as Steve felt. His eyes rested closed, his full,  _gorgeous_ , red lips parted as soft little huff of air escaped him. Wrinkling his nose in his sleep, Bucky shifted closer, breathing a sigh as he tucked his face into the crook of Steve’s neck.

He blinked sleepily, a little smile touching his lips as Bucky snuggled in. The other boy’s breath was warm on his neck, and his fingers twitched now and again against his ribs, tickling ever so slightly. He felt relaxed, comfortable, and  _safe_ … A part of Steve wanted to fall back asleep, especially with Bucky’s warm, naked body curled around his own, but something itched at the back of his mind, something his half-asleep brain couldn't quite identify.

Panic suddenly crashed over Steve in an icy wave.  _Shit_. He’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. How long had he been here? Minutes? Hours? What time was it?  _Fuck_ \- his family-

Adrenaline dumped into Steve’s veins, but he forced himself not to bolt upright, his body going rigid with panic. He didn’t want to wake Bucky. Steve had made a distinct effort to remember the route Bucky had taken him through his house, and it would be better for both of them if Steve could just slip out without disturbing him. Bucky could continue sleeping, and Steve wouldn’t have to handle saying goodbye, not after last night. 

Last night had pitched his and Bucky’s relationship into territory Steve had told himself he would avoid at all costs. Steve had told himself that he wasn’t going to let his damaging feelings for Bucky run away with his head, he wasn’t going to let Bucky fuck him and he wasn’t going to let himself get hurt when Bucky inevitably wanted to get rid of him in the morning. He’d clung to that resolution with an iron grip until last night when, frightened, and upset, he’d pursued Bucky’s comfort, and let himself fall. Steve had briefly tried to remind himself that it was still going to hurt in the end, but the notion had slipped away from him all but completely the moment Bucky’s mouth touched his skin. After last night though, he wasn’t sure Bucky  _would_  want him to leave. Steve wasn’t an optimist by nature, but Bucky had been so  _gentle_  with him…He’d been so careful, and tender, focusing so much more on Steve’s pleasure than his own…Steve had started to let himself think that…maybe this  _wasn’t_  just an emotionless fuck for Bucky…not anymore.

But it didn’t matter. Steve had gotten distracted. He’d been carried away by his need for comfort and support, and he’d fallen harder than he’d ever thought possible. He’d had sex with Bucky, loosing himself in the tender comfort that he’d craved for so long, and then he’d fucking  _fallen asleep_. His family was probably worried sick about him! And while they needed him, where had he been? Fucking the son of the guy who was going to have them killed. What the  _hell_ was wrong with him?

Slowly, Steve began to ease away from Bucky, his body dragging with reluctance. If all went well, by the time Bucky woke up, Steve would be long gone, and if Bucky really didn’t want him to leave he’d call, and Steve could explain. If he did…well…Steve would have just saved everyone involved a lot of trouble. Steve slowly began to slide Bucky’s hand off his stomach when the older boy suddenly twitched, and his hand shifting to curl around Steve’s bone-thin wrist.

“Hey Stevie…” He whispered, blinking sleepily, his prefect lips curling into a tiny smile that made Steve’s weak little heart flutter with warmth. Breathing a contented sigh, Bucky dragged Steve’s hand up to press a kiss to the back of his knuckles, his lips touching, damp, and warm against the pale skin, and the fluttering feeling in his chest died, replaced by a cold knot of tension, and guilt.

Abandoning stealth Steve gently tugged himself free from Bucky’s grip, the older boy giving a muted whine as Steve pulled away. “I've gotta go…” He murmured bluntly, slipping out of bed before Bucky came too enough to process his word. The sooner he could leave the better. His parents were probably out of their heads with worry, and Steve had abandoned them. He had to leave, no matter what  _he_  wanted. 

Bucky blinked as the short, clipped words sunk in, and his confusion phased into disbelief. “What?” He asked, his voice still thick with sleep, “Steve, wait, wait-  _no_ -” He pushed himself up, snatching at Steve’s wrist, but the boy had already pulled out of his reach. 

He stooped, scooping his damp clothes up of the floor, and fumbling with his jeans with a low curse, trying to get the wet material around his ankles. 

“Steve, I said  _wait_!” Bucky protested, rudely alert now as he, bizarrely, found himself on the receiving end of the treatment he was so used to giving. Steve was actually ditching him, slipping away in the middle of the night and fucking  _ditching_  him! Bucky threw the comforter aside, scrambling out of bed and closing the distance between them. He reached out grabbing Steve roughly, his hand curling around his upper arm and holding him secure despite his attempts to pull away. “Hang on, hang on just a second, Steve! Don’t-”

“I have to-”

“I  _want_  you to stay!” Bucky blurted, and suddenly froze, still tightly gripping Steve’s tender skin. The brunet swallowed hard, suddenly finding his breathing a little uneven. “ _Please_ …” He breathed in a low, pleading tone, his fingers loosening their hold as he reached up to brush Steve’s bangs away from his face. “I want you to stay…”

Steve stared up at Bucky as he softly brushed his hair out of his eyes; his fingers trailing delicately down his cheekbone. The expression on his lover’s face was raw, and honest, and Steve drew back, stunned, because  _fuck_ \- Bucky  _wanted_  him…he wasn’t going to chase him out…throw him away like a broken, used  _thing_ …He  _wanted_  him…but Steve couldn’t stay.

 “Bucky-” He tried again, easing back despite the warmth that pooled in his stomach at Bucky’s touch. “I  _can’t_ …my family…they’re gonna worry…”

For a long moment, Bucky was silent as he stared at him, his expression conflicted. Selfishly, he wanted Steve to stay. He wanted him to forget about his family, even if just for a little while, and crawl back in bed with him. He wanted to sooth Steve back to sleep with whispered words of comfort, and soft, tender kisses…but the part of Bucky that was learning to look beyond himself saw the hurt, and guilt in Steve’s eyes, and knew that he couldn’t keep him to himself. He held the silence for a moment more before the tension fell from his shoulders, and he slowly released Steve’s arm. 

Steve managed a faint, grateful smile as Bucky’s fingers uncurled from his arm, and he stooped to pull his wet boxers and pants on.

Abruptly, Bucky stepped one, bare foot onto the cuffs, stopping Steve’s progress dead. “Put on the dry stuff y'numb-skull,” Bucky murmured with an affectionate smile. “You can get them back to me later.” Stepping off of Steve’s jeans, Bucky bent to collect the dry clothing he’d selected for himself who knows how long ago. He had no idea what time for the night, or morning it was, but at the moment, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. 

Compliantly, Steve let his wet clothing drop back to the floor, and scooped up the pair of dry boxers Bucky had lent him. It felt weird, wearing Bucky’s clothing, but at the same time, Steve couldn’t help but think that it was kind of nice. Bucky’s clothing was soft, and clean, smelling of laundry detergent, and something purely  _Bucky_  that Steve couldn’t exactly place. As he tugged on the borrowed sweatpants, Steve could help but wonder what it would be like if this were a normal situation, if Bucky were his boyfriend, and they were swapping clothes after spending the night. Then they could worry about normal things, like how their parents were going to react, and who was going to top next time…but that wasn’t their lot. Steve had accepted that no matter what happened between he and Bucky, it could  _never_  be normal.

“I remember the way out.” Steve murmured, pulling the boxers on over his boney hips. “I’ll be fine getting out on my own, if you wanna go back to sleep.” Steve offered, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole situation. Truth be told, he was still dreading saying goodbye.

Bucky glanced back as he fussed with the zipper of his jeans, smirking incredulously at Steve. He scoffed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief. “Steve! It’s still pouring fucking cats and dogs out there! If you’ve gotta leave then I’m gonna drive you back, no if’s and’s or but’s about it.”

Steve turned, mouth already half open to protest when Bucky shushed him sharply, his lips curling into an infuriating smirk as he pressing the tip of his finger to Steve’s lips. “Shh- No. I’m driving you, and there’s nothing you can do about it, now get yer pants on.” 

Steve scowling, and turned away from Bucky, trying to suppress the fluttering in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t have time to think about it right now. He had to get back to his family. He couldn’t be distracted again, no matter how nice it felt to have Bucky’s finger resting so softly against his lower lip…how much he wanted to kiss his beautiful, smirking mouth…Abruptly, the blond shook himself from his daze and tugged the borrowed sweatpants on over his hips, fumbling with the shirt as he stepped to the bedroom door. “Okay fine,” He relented, glancing back as he reached for the doorknob. “But we can’t waste time okay? We’ve got to leave right now-”

A brief look of alarm flashed across Bucky’s features, and he suddenly lunged, grabbing Steve’s wrist and dragging him away from the door. In one, swift movement, he manipulated the smaller boy’s body around and forced his back against the wall, his hand clamping down over his mouth to muffle the yelp of alarm. “ _Shhh_ -” He hissed, his eyes glinting in the darkness, body pressed close. 

Steve choked back the cry of surprise, swallowing it back and staring up at Bucky in wide-eyed alarm. His hand was rough over his mouth, muffling any sound, but also making it a little difficult to breath. Steve’s heart was racing in his chest, his ears straining, and in a moment, he began to make out the cause of Bucky’s reaction.

Voices, low and quiet, drifted down the hallways. Steve could make out two voices, neither of which he had ever heard before, but one carried a vague note of familiarity. It was deep, and soft, layered with confidence and power, and Steve instinctively recognized it as Bucky’s father. He may never have heard Mr. Barnes’ voice before, but it was enough like his son’s that it was unmistakable.

Steve’s gaze snapped up to Bucky, but the expression on his companion’s face unsettled him. 

One of the few things about Bucky’s visceral, and gory life that  _hadn’t_  begun to unnerve him after meeting Steve, was over hearing his father’s conversations. It had provided a source of knowledge and entertainment for far too many years, and Bucky couldn’t help but love getting away with eavesdropping. After all,  _no one_  got away with anything around his father,  _except_  for him. 

Bucky leaned close, tucking his mouth against Steve’s ear. “Listen Stevie…” He breathed, his air warming Steve’s skin. “Y’wanna know which companies are going bankrupt overnight? What candidate is going to win an election by ‘ _surprise_ ,’ or who’s gonna turn up dead in the morning? Listen close in my house at night…it’s better than a crystal ball…” 

A chill crept up Steve’s spine, his skin going cold despite Bucky’s proximity. Bucky’s fascination with his family’s private conversations disturbed him, and although he had to remind himself that Bucky was only now beginning to change for the better, he desperately wished that he wouldn’t look so fucking  _thrilled_. But to Bucky, his father’s whispered conversations with his men were a window into the future, and a glimpse of something like  _that_  was a offer Bucky couldn’t refuse.

Over the pounding of his own heart in his ears, Steve began to make out snatches of conversation as the men drew closer, and Bucky’s hand pressed more firmly over his mouth.

“-thinks he can get off without some kind of repercussion he’s more of an idiot than I thought.” The voice was unmistakably Bucky’s father, his tone low, and dangerous. “I don’t like being lied to. I would have been willing to forgive it if it had been me, but if Rogers thinks he can take advantage of my son, use his inexperience to manipulate me… _that_  I can’t abide by.”

At the sound of his family name, Steve’s stomach suddenly twisted into a cold knot, panic rising in his throat. His frantic gaze snapped from the closed door, up to Bucky, but the older boy’s gaze was fixed straight ahead. The look of gleeful delight had fallen away, leaving Bucky’s face drawn, and ashen.

Now, the second voice spoke again, and Bucky recognized it as Sanders, another one of his father’s men. “Should I bring him in?” He asked, voice impartial, though a tone of brutality underlay the question. The silence that followed seemed like an eternity, and Steve squirmed under Bucky’s hand, his ears straining to hear Mr. Barnes’ decisions.

“No…” He murmured finally, his voice heavy with reluctance. “As much as I would enjoy letting him spend a little time in the basement I don’t think that’s going to be an apt punishment.” The were nearing the door now, just outside, and Steve could have sworn that that mob boss and his goon would have been able to hear his breath rattling in his chest. “Rogers is a family man isn't he?”

“Yes sir. A wife and son.”

Mr. Banes gave a thoughtful hum, before coming to an abrupt decision. “Rogers thought he could mess with my son…Let’s return the favor, shall we? The boy.  _Kill him_.”

Shock crashed through Steve’s system, and stomach dropped sickly, his head going light as a freezing cold sweat broke out all over his body. Arguably the most dangerous man on the east coast had just put a professional hit out on him… _he was going to die_ …With the little sense he had left, Steve was grateful for Bucky’s hand over his mouth, muffling the stifled little choke of fear that wrenched itself from his throat. He couldn’t think, his head spinning as he met Bucky’s gaze.

The older boy stared down at him, all the color drained from his face, his eyes frozen wide with horror as a sickening fear settled over the both of them. Bucky’s blood was rushing in his ears, and he suddenly felt nauseous with guilt. 

_ This was his fault. This was all his fault… _

Steve felt himself suffocating under the panic, the roaring in his ears almost drowning out the last words he could make out before the footsteps receded down the hall. “-I’m sure he attends school. Get him on his way home. Make it ugly, and leave him on the stoop, I’m sure that will get my message across the Rogers. I protect my family. He should have protected his by listening to me sooner…”

Bucky’s hand slid numbly from Steve’s mouth and he stumbled back, his face slack with horror. His mouth was frozen open, hands pulled back as if he were afraid to touch him, afraid Steve would shove him off if he did.

Steve was too shocked to move. He stood against the wall, his short, uneven fingernails digging crescent shaped marks into the paint as held himself up. He could feel himself shaking, his knees going weak as a knot of horror forced it’s way up his throat. “ _Bucky_ -” He whispered, his voice trembling, and he swayed suddenly, his hands fumbling numbly against the wall. 

Bucky snapped out of his daze, and surged forward, grabbing Steve’s shoulders as the boy’s knees buckled. “ _Steve_ \- Steve!” He breathed urgently, waiting until Steve had gotten his feet back underneath of him before grabbing his face. “ _Look at me_ ,” He demanded. “Look at me, sweetheart, okay? Look at me.” 

Steve dragged his horrified gaze up off the floor, meeting Bucky’s eyes. The expression reflected on his face was pure, sickened terror, and Bucky felt his grip tightening earnestly on his jaw. “I  _won’t_  let him hurt you.” Bucky said fiercely, his teeth clenched as he drew Steve close, pressing their foreheads together. “Okay? I’m not gonna let him hurt you Steve, I’m gonna take care of you…”

Steve swallowed back the knot in the throat, his shaking hands coming up to grip at Bucky’s forearms for support. His head was still spinning with panic, but Bucky’s presence was solid, and grounding. His touch was warm, and comforting, fighting back the sick fear that churned inside him, and offering safety, and protection. Steve didn’t know what Bucky could do, or if he  _could_  do anything at all, but his words were reassuring, and Steve knew, whatever happened, he wouldn’t have to face it alone. 

Bucky nuzzled close against Steve’s face, his mouth brushing the other boy’s tenderly as he murmured soft, unintelligible words of comfort under his breath. His hands stroked feverishly across Steve’s cheeks and jaw, fumbling through his hair as he grazed soft, comforting kisses against his lips and cheeks, Steve shuddering under his touch. “I’m sorry-” Bucky choked, pressing a fuller, more desperate kiss to his flushed, trembling lips. “I’m  _so_  sorry, Steve- I’m so-”

Steve silenced him, grabbing Bucky’s jaw and dragging their mouths together, clinging to him desperately. Bucky whimpered into the kiss, his choked apologies dying in his throat as Steve’s boney fingers pressed into his jaw, his mouth crushed against his own. He pressed closer, cradling Steve against the wall, his fingers threading through his soft blond hair and curling into fists. He gripped Steve’s hair, clinging to him like an anchor. The only small comfort in Bucky’s mind, cluttered with pain, and guilt, was feeling Steve return his kiss. The boy was trembling under his hands and choking back gasps of fear, but he returned Bucky’s kiss with equal aching and desperation. Steve didn’t blame him…He didn’t blame him for setting him up to die…

Bucky broke the kiss with a pained gasp, still pressed against him, his eyes squeezed closed. “Steve-” He managed tightly, his fingers gripping through his hair as he swallowed back a dry choke.

Steve made a comforting sound in the back of his throat, his hands coming from Bucky’s arms to his neck, gently framing his lower jaw with his slender fingers. Bucky’s grip through his hair sent a prickle of pain over his scalp, the older boy forgetting himself in the tension of the moment, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. The dull pain kept him alert, kept his anxiety from spinning out of control. He pulled Bucky close, rubbing his hands soothingly over his neck and jaw; Bucky quivering with suppressed hurt and self directed fury.

“I wanna tell you that I’m going to fix this…” Bucky rasped, his voice weak, and helpless. “But every time I’ve said that, I’ve only made it worse…and now my dad made the call to have you killed to punish your father for something he  _never_  did…Going behind his back, lying to him, that was all  _me_ …” Bucky breathed, aching for Steve’s touch as his grip loosened, and slid from his hair, moving to tenderly cradle his face.

“I know…” Steve whispered, feeling Bucky’s hot breath on his lips, feeling his heart jarring against his narrow ribcage. “Buck- You didn’t know he was gonna do that…You thought he’d believe you…You didn’t know…”

Silence fell between them, as the two boys stood close together in the darkness, forehead to forehead, breathing raggedly as they clung to each other for support. Bucky’s hands stroked mechanically at Steve’s cheeks, his lips twitching as he mouthed silent apologies. Steve soaked in the comfort, still trembling, his own kill order still echoing in his ears. It was a long time before either of them spoke again.

“Steve?” Bucky whispered, his voice breaking the stillness that had hung over them for so long. 

Collecting his thoughts, Steve drew in a deep breath before answering. “Yeah?” He breathed, his voice almost lost in the dark, oppressively quite room.

“Y’know you can’t go home… _right_?”

The reality of Bucky’s words sunk in slowly, and painfully, like a hot coal that had been set against his skin, slowly burning his flesh away. He didn’t want to accept that, didn’t want to accept that going back to his home was a veritable death sentence, but in his heart he knew Bucky was right. He might make it home in one piece, but the next time he was foolish enough to venture out, one of Mr. Barnes’ men would kill him…  _Make it ugly. Leave him on the stoop_. He couldn’t go back home.

Steve swallowed, suddenly feeling his eyes burning with tears. The realization that he had been targeted to be killed had shaken Steve to his core, he’d been shocked, and terrified, but only the reality that he couldn’t go back to his home… _to his family_ …was enough to make him cry. Two thin trails of tears suddenly spilled down his cheeks, the pain building inside him until he doubled forward into Bucky’s arms, suddenly clutching his shirt as a ragged gasp tore from his trembling body. He choked on silent sobs as he slumped against Bucky, his entire body shaking. Tears ran down his face as all the hurt and fear, and pain that had been building up for so long finally broke free, escaping it’s tiny, boney prison in huge wrenching sobs. 

Steve felt as though his throat had been scraped open with a razor, a silent scream tearing from him as he pressed into Bucky’s chest, only vaguely aware of the other boy’s arms around him. He wanted to wail, and scream as loud as his weak lungs were capable, but he couldn’t. He choked back any noise, his throat aching as he body strove to cry while he kept all the bitter noise trapped inside of his narrow chest.

Bucky cradled Steve close to him, alarmed by the sudden breakdown, but how could he blame him? Steve’s life had been nothing but pain, and uncertainty, and fear since Bucky had strolled into his life… _He’d_  sentenced him to this…Bucky had sentenced him to all this terror, and misery the moment he laid eyes on him and decided he  _had_  to have him…Bucky couldn’t bring himself to regret pursuing Steve, He’d felt happier, more alive, and more  _human_  ever since he’d met him…but he did regret the toll it had taken on Steve…he regret that he had been the one to ruin the person who’d finally fixed something inside him, who’d finally made him feel like more than an empty shell…

So Bucky did the only thing he could do. He couldn’t rewind time and walk the other way when he saw Steve on the street. He couldn’t give Steve back his security, or his happiness…. he couldn’t give Steve’s father back his finger, or give back to his mother the nights she would fear for her missing son…but he could hold Steve…

He tightened his arms around the shaking boy, cradling him against his chest, whispered comfort under his breath and tenderly carding his fingers through his hair. “Hey…Hey…Breath… _Breath_  baby doll…I’ve got you…I’ve got you Steve…” he whispered, kissing the top of his head, blinking back the stinging in his own eyes.

Steve choked on a silent sob, his shoulders curling forward against Bucky’s chest. Exhaustion suddenly hit Steve like a battering ram, and his knees buckled slightly, one more bitter, wrenching gasp tearing from his aching throat before he slumped against Bucky, shaking, and utterly spent.

Slowly, tenderly, Bucky took Steve’s shoulders, easing him back and ducking his head to look up into Steve’s tear stained face. “Hey sugar…” He whispered, touching his fingertips to the underside of Steve’s wet chin, lifting his face to meet his red-rimmed eyes. He stared at him for a moment, gut wrenched with guilt and pity. Steve looked  _completely_  exhausted, his body still trembling, although his chin kept drooping, and his narrow chest heaved with exertion. Bucky got the feeling that Steve hadn’t cried like that in a very long time…if ever…

“Stevie, baby, look at me…” Bucky pleaded, and Steve finally managed to lift his gaze to Bucky’s, shuddering as their eyes locked. “ _There_ …” Bucky praised softly, his thumb brushing tenderly over his chin. “There we go…Listen…I know you’re tired, but I gotta ask you something, and you gotta think for me, okay?”

Steve managed a nod, not trusting his voice to speak. 

“Okay…Think back…after you thought you had your six months, did your dad mention having anyone he was selling to soon?“

The slender blond swallowed, the question falling dully on his ears. He had to think, he had to answer Bucky’s question, but his mind was foggy, crying out for rest after the trauma he’d inflicted on it. Slowly, he managed to piece together bits and pieces of conversations, finally remembering the answer to what Bucky asked of him. “He mentioned earlier toady…” Steve rasped, his throat burning. “He mentioned having two exchanges he was going to be making tomorrow…I don’t know about after that.” Steve’s voice broke off with a crack, and Bucky made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat, rewarding him with a soft, tender kiss.

“Good…good…now listen close, okay, baby doll?“ Bucky pressed, hating that he had to ask more of Steve, especially in the state he was in. “I need you to call your folks, tell them that they  _can’t_  make those sales, no matter what. My dad’s guys are still going to be looking for you, and I don’t know how to fix that problem, but if your dad keeps selling, and they can’t find you, they’re gonna hurt someone else…your mom, more likely than not. He  _can’t_  make those sales, okay Stevie? You  _gotta_  make them promise. I can’t hide everyone…”

Steve dragged in a ragged breath, Bucky’s words settling in with more clarity now. Rent or not, people were gonna start dying if they didn’t stop selling, and Steve refused to put either of his parents in harms way all because he wouldn’t be around to be the victim. Instinctively, he knew he couldn’t tell them where he would be either, or how long…Steve didn’t know the answer to the second question himself…How long would it be? How long could Bucky hide him before the problem panned out? How long before he was found and killed?

Lifting his chin, Steve met Bucky’s gaze again, the corners of his lips turning up in a weak smile that didn’t make it to his eyes. “Alright.” He murmured, feathering an exhausted kiss against Bucky’s lips before he gently pulled away. Steve walked unsteadily back over to where his wet jeans lay, abandoned on the floor. Dropping to one knee, he fumbled through the pockets until his slender fingers caught hold of the outdated phone. 

For a moment, he stared down at the little device, unable to move. How could he face either of his parents when he couldn’t even tell them where he was, or what was going on? Steve understood that the less his parents knew, the safer they’d be, but it still hurt to imagine lying to them. But it was a necessary evil. They may not be protected from harm because of this, but they’d be a degree safer than they were before. Swallowing back the knot in his throat, Steve dialed the number and waited as the phone rang.

Bucky looked on as Steve crouched on the floor, the phone clutched to his ear, looking heartsick, and weary. A moment later, his startled, straightening his back instinctively. “Hey mom-” He started weakly, and then fell silent, as his mother pressed for his safety, his whereabouts, and what he was thinking disappearing like that. Steve waited patiently, his expression twisted with guilt before he finally spoke again. “I’m sorry.” He breathed, his voice hushed in the large, dark room. “Mom, I’m sorry, I’m  _sorry_ ….I-…How’s dad?” Steve blurted, before falling silent, nodding, and Bucky caught just a glimmer of relief in his eyes. “ _Good_ …Listen mom…I know this is gonna sound stupid, cause I know rent’s due soon, but…you or dad  _can’t_  make those sales tomorrow, or ever.  _Please_ , mom, I know it’s the only way we’re getting by right now but you’ve got to drop it, you’ve  _got_  to…Please… _Please_ mom, just trust me…I- I can’t explain but you’ve gotta- you’ve-” 

Steve trailed off, and after a heavy moment, Bucky watched his eyes fall shut, the tension releasing from his shoulder. “ _Thank you_ …” He whispered, about to speak again when his mother cut him off, and he stopped to listen. The relief in Steve’s expression was suddenly washed over by a wave of guilt and pain, and Bucky could see him struggling to hold himself together. “Ma- I  _can’t_. I can’t tell you why, but…I’ve gotta stay away for a while…I’m sorry…I- tell pa…I’m sorry I couldn’t stay…” Then, even from several feet away, even through the grainy, tinny speaker, Bucky heard Mrs. Rogers’ next question as clear as a bell. 

_ Are you safe?  _

Steve stopped for just a moment, his eyes wide as he stared, frozen, ahead of him. Slowly, Steve blinked turning to stare at Bucky in that same, even, unnerving manner that Bucky had grown to recognize, like he was staring straight into his soul. He held Bucky’s gaze for a long moment, before turning away, and answering his mother, clearly, and definitively. 

“ _Yes_.” Steve said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “I’m safe, I  _promise_.” 

Steve spoke to his mother in low tones for another few minutes before murmuring a reluctant goodbye, and slowly close his phone. Bucky approached where he knelt, and silently extended a hand. The young boy received the help, as took Bucky’s hand, drawing himself unsteadily to his feet.

“That didn’t sound easy…” Bucky murmured, and Steve’s shoulder drooped, his head lowering as the exhaustion washed back over his fragile body.  

“I  _hate_  lying to her Buck…” He whispered, and Bucky’s grip tightened on his thin hand.

He nodded, reaching forward to cup his jaw. “I know,” He said softly, acknowledging the stress and pain Steve was experiencing at deceiving his parents. Bucky gently pushed Steve’s floppy blond hair away from his face, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to his forehead. “I know sweetheart…But it’s better…y’know? It’s better than them getting hurt…”

Steve heaved a pained sigh, managing a tight nod as he leaned in to the little gestures of affection. “Now listen,” Bucky continued, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. “You’re gonna come with me, okay? We’re gonna go somewhere a little less trafficked, and you’re gonna sleep, y’got that?” 

By this point, Steve was beyond reacting. Drained emotionally and physically, it was all he could manage just to stay on his feet. 

Gently, Bucky freed his hand from Steve’s, leaving the boy standing in the middle of the room, swaying slightly on his feet as he focused on staying upright. He moved to the window, and despite the rain outside, cracked it open so that the curtains rustled and shifted, and moisture dotted the windowsill. “I slip out a lot during the night,“ Bucky explained, even though he doubted that Steve was really soaking in what he was saying. “If anyone comes in here later, they’re not gonna be surprised if it looks like I’m gone.” Stashing his sneakers in the closet so they would be out of sight, Bucky picked up the wet clothing from earlier, tucking it under one arm and taking Steve’s hand once more.

“Come one, doll face.” He murmured affectionately, watching Steve blink himself alert. “Not much longer now.”

-.-

Bucky lead Steve, barely alert, and clumsy with exhaustion, back out of the safety of his room. The two boys stole through the dark hallways, and Bucky lead him up to the fourth floor, down halls, and around corners until the reached a guest room that had been tucked around an inconvenient corner, due to a design error during the mansion's building. Bucky’s father had been greatly put off by the flaw in his grand home, and the architect in question had mysteriously turned up dead the next morning. Though its location was inconvenient, it made the perfect place to hide. The fourth floor saw significantly less traffic than the first three, the corner around which the little room was tucked was inconspicuous, and Bucky’s father detested the room anyways, so Bucky was confident that Steve and himself could remain there in secrecy. Not one would bother the little room, and his precious Steve would be able to rest in safety.

-.-

“Here,” Bucky said softly, no longer bothering to keep his voice to a discreet whisper. He tugged back the thick comforter covering the guest bed and lead Steve over. “We’re gonna stay here tonight. No one’ll bother us, trust me.”

Steve blinked heavily, too exhausted to question, and when Bucky crawled into the bed, pulling him gently after him, Steve followed without protest. He dropped on to the mattress, his chest tightening as Bucky curled in around him, wrapping him in a gentle embrace. He didn’t know what he’d done to involve himself in so much violence, and fear, but he was grateful that the same thing, whatever it had been, and brought Bucky into his life. Yeah, he was still selfish, and cocky, and he could still be a thoughtless jerk at times, but Steve was beginning to think that, just maybe, Bucky  _actually_  loved him…and stranger still, Steve was beginning to think that, just  _maybe_ , he loved Bucky in return…

But it was too late, and Steve was weak with exhaustion, He was too weary to think about what his future would hold with his family in danger, and a direct order out to kill him. He was too fatigued to be afraid of being discovered, hiding right under the nose of the man who would have him murdered. The best he could manage was to let Bucky fold him into his arms, and fall asleep listening to his deep, even breathing in the bed beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any technical glitches in this chapter, it gave me a lot of trouble in the uploading process. But I'm reposting it, and with any luck it should be all straightened out. 
> 
> Also, I made a graphic edit for this story on my tumblr if you guys would like to check it out.
> 
> http://thelittlestpurplecat.tumblr.com/post/114606429174/bucky-barnes-leads-a-charmed-life-as-the-son-of


	8. Chapter 8

Morning dawned, white and watery, the rain having finally slowed to a grim drizzle. Water ran off of the overhanging roof’s edge and past the window of the fourth-floor guest room where two boys lay, curled up in one another's arms.

The pale, weak light seeped through the gap in the heavy curtains, spilling across Bucky’s sleep-lined cheek. The brunet shifted, mumbling incoherently as he squeezed his eyes tighter shut, trying to bock out the light, when the sound of his lover’s wheezing breath met his ears. A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and Bucky rolled over, his eyelids lifting as he looked over at Steve, still asleep beside him.

Despite the heavy sleep he’d fallen into the moment his head had hit the pillow, Steve still looked exhausted. Worry lines creases his brow, and he shifted in his sleep, his lips tightening before parting in a soft noise of distress. Instantly, Bucky’s smile faded. He was no stranger to nightmares, and though he wanted to gather Steve in his arms and tell him it was alright, that it was just a dream; experience stilled his hand. He had learned that it was better to sleep through a nightmare than to have someone wake you. If you woke in the middle you were forced to remember.

As he stared down at his sleeping lover, it occurred to Bucky out of the blue that this was absolutely fucking _insane_. He was hiding Steve, a boy his father wanted _killed_ , in his father’s own house. He was keeping him right under his nose, and expecting his father to be looking too far out to notice. Though logic told him this room was the safest in the house, fear would have him believe that they could be walked in on at any moment. Feverishly, Bucky slipped from the bed, instinctively checking the lock.

“Bucky?”

The low, soft voice startled Bucky, and he wheeled around, heart lurching. As suddenly as it had come, the adrenaline washed from his system. _Steve_. Steve was propped up on his elbows in the bed, golden blond hair tousled, eyes half-closed, still shirtless from the night before.

“Morning,” Bucky greeted, his fingers sliding easily away from the lock as he stepped back to the bed. The mattress sunk under Bucky’s knees as he crawled over, pressing a warm kiss to Steve’s forehead. “You sleep okay, Sugar?” Bucky asked, dropping on to one elbow beside him.

Steve hesitated, his lush lips parting as he considered the question. “Not as well as I _could_ have.” He admitted, looking over at Bucky with a tight smile. “Couldn’t shake last night.”

Bucky snorted, rolling on to his back and folding his hands over his stomach, the top of his dark chestnut hair just brushing Steve's ribs. “Don’t blame you.” He muttered, crossing his feet at the ankles. “A lot happened last night…”

Steve buffered a moment, half-wondering just how Bucky meant him to take that. After all, Steve had given himself over to Bucky last night, he'd let him touch him the way he'd never let anyone touch him before, he'd let Bucky take him completely. And then there was the small mater of the kill order.

However he'd meant it, suggestively or not, a lot _had_ happened last night. Steve decided to glaze over the statement. “Any insight on a plan?” he asked softly, not meeting Bucky's gaze.

Bucky’s eyes snapped away from the ceiling and he looked at Steve for a long moment before pushing himself back up. “For now?” He pressed, hesitating a moment before flashing the younger boy what he _hoped_ was a reassuring smile. “You’re gonna lay low _right_ here.”

“In your house?” Steve pressed, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

“In your _Dad’s_ house?”

“Steve-” Bucky scoffed, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. “If _you_ were my dad, and _you_ were looking for a seventeen year old brat who’s family you'd threatened, would you go looking for him in your upstairs guest room? Steve, they’re gonna be looking around your _neighborhood_ , around your school or wherever the fuck you hang out.” Leaning in, Bucky grabbed Steve’s chin, gently tugging him closer. “He’s _not_ gonna look for you here.”

Despite his reassurance, Steve still looked uneasy, absently pulling his chin from Bucky's hand. “I get that, I _really_ do, but _come on_ , Buck! This house is swarming with staff, _someone’s_ gonna find out eventually. I can’t just stay here!”

“ _For now_ , okay?” Bucky said abruptly, forcing back a twinge of frustration at his own helplessness. “Just… _for now_ , just until I think of somewhere safer for you…I swear…” Bucky’s promise was met with silence, Steve’s expression grim, and distant. He was clearly still uneasy about hiding in the same house as Bucky’s father, it seemed like tempting fate…or flirting with death. Steve didn’t mind risks, he didn’t mind throwing himself headlong into a situation without a solid plan, but he preferred if those situations could be avoided.

“Hey…” Bucky murmured, breaking the silence after a long moment and reaching over to gently touch his hand to Steve’s arm.

“Hmm?" Steve responded, still staring absently away, his lips pressed into a tight line. His anxiety was tangible.

"Y'know what day it is?” Bucky let the question hang for just a beat before continuing, recognizing that Steve was too absorbed in his thoughts to bother answering. “It Sunday…you promised me a date today…”

_That_ broke through Steve’s shell, the younger boy startling as though the realization had just struck him. He turned, looking over at Bucky, an expression of disbelief written across his features. “ _You_ said we were laying low _here_.” Steve accused, arching an eyebrow, and he watched as Bucky’s mouth curled into that perfect, troublesome smirk. Suddenly, Bucky rolled over, lifting himself with ease and casually straddling the smaller boy’s hips.

Steve jerked in surprise. Any part of him that had still been distracted was suddenly obliterated as Bucky’s hands slide slowly down his bare chest, fingers grazing delicately over his nipples. He caught his breath, eyelids fluttering as Bucky’s thumb rubbed in an easy circle over the sensitive skin, teasing it erect. He still wasn’t sure what to make of Bucky’s affection, or how much he wanted to believe was genuine, but at the moment, all he could focus on was Bucky’s weight over his hips, and the dangerously flirtatious smirk that rested on his _gorgeous_ red mouth.

“ _True_ ,” He agreed, watching Steve’s reaction to the touch with a thrill of satisfaction. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have our date…” Bucky eased closer, allowing his mouth to slide, warm and wet, up the side of Steve’s neck. “I can arrange for breakfast in bed…” He whispered, kissing the soft spot just below his lover’s ear.

Steve swallowed back a moan, trying to maintain some dignity and restraint despite how fucking _incredible_ it felt to have Bucky in his lap, have his mouth breathing soft, flirtatious words in his ear and his fingers playing with his rosy nipples. He had only had sex with Bucky just last night, and already he craved his touch more than he liked to admit. He wanted Bucky to touch him, kiss him, show him all the things he’d been missing out on… Steve wanted Bucky to take him in every way possible, but his stubbornness refused to let Bucky know. “Yer a sap…” Steve gritted out, trying to ignore the twitch of arousal in the front of his borrowed sweatpants, knowing already that it was a lost cause. Bucky was straddling his lap, and the second Steve’s prick began to harden, Bucky could feel it.

“ _Come on, Stevie_ …” He breathed, catching Steve’s earlobe between his teeth and giving it a gentle tug. “It’ll be _romantic_ …I can get us a nice breakfast for two…something with whipped cream that I can suck off your _delicious_ little nipples…” Bucky punctuated the offer with a teasing twist and Steve lurched despite himself, the stimulation of his nipples going straight to his cock. But If Steve’s reaction distracted Bucky, he didn’t let on. He pressed closer, easing his hips forward as he began to shift down on Steve’s lap, grinding his hips across Steve’s half-hard cock. “And after breakfast…I’ll take you into the adjoining room…there’s a nice, big tub…you and I can have a candle lit bath, and I’ll wash your pretty body from head to foot…”

Steve’s eyes fell closed as a sigh escaped his parted lips, his cheeks flushed scarlet under Bucky sensual ministrations. Bucky had moved to his neck, sucking delicate little blossoms up the front of his throat, enough to flush the skin without leaving a lasting mark. The mental image of soaking in a huge tub of hot, sweet smelling water, wrapped in Bucky’s naked frame, was enough to make Steve weak with desire. Fuck restraint. Steve found himself nodding shakily, his hands coming up to grip at Bucky’s back, his finger curling desperately into the firm muscle. “God, Buck-” he gasped, and Bucky's mouth curled into a smirk against his throat.

“When was the last time you ate?”

Steve blinked, thrust into a tailspin by the unexpected change of subject. He kind of wanted to go back to talking about Bucky’s lathered, soapy hands sliding all over his wet body, but Bucky had drawn back, and was waiting expectantly. “Uh- lunch. Yesterday.” He fumbled, his breathing a little uneven and his hips twitched under Bucky’s body.

Bucky, unsympathetic to Steve’s needy little movements, frowned. “Fuck…” He muttered under his breath. “No dinner? You must be half-starved!”

“Well- no, no dinner.” Steve said, squirming as he moved to tug Bucky closer. “You might be shocked to hear this, but watching a stranger hack off your dad’s finger doesn’t do much for your appetite.”

“Breakfast first then.” Bucky said, and abruptly dismounted Steve’s hips, and slid from the bed.

An audible whine tore from Steve’s lips, his expression twisting with dismay. He lurched forward, suddenly stumbling numbly after him. “ _Wait_ \- Bucky- Bucky no- I’m not _that_ hungry, don’t-”

Bucky turned abruptly on his heel, catching Steve mid-step, and dragging him into a full, deep kiss. The boy gave a start of alarm, before Bucky felt him go pliable under his touch, sinking gratefully against him, no doubt believing that he was going to be getting his way.

Of course that’s where he was wrong.

Maybe it was cruel of Bucky, but Steve’s needy little whines, and moans, and whimpers were the hottest thing he had _ever_ heard, and he wanted him to be _desperate_ for him. He wanted to whip Steve up, and pull him back only to do it again, and again before finally fucking Steve _so_ thoroughly that he would be arching and writhing underneath him. He wanted to make Steve feel so fucking incredible once he _finally_ took him that he’d be screaming with pleasure, knowing it was so much better after having brought so close and pulled back again so many times. Bucky wanted Steve to need him as much as he needed Steve. He needed to see that on his face, and hear it in his voice, because maybe then he could convince himself that Steve, beautiful, perfect, stupidly brave, and utterly _gorgeous_ Steve, _really_ wanted him.

Bucky broke the kiss with a tender smile, nuzzling softly against Steve’s cheek as he eased him back against the bed.

Steve’s heart gave an excited little stutter in his chest as Bucky pushed him back against the bed, and he shivered when the older boy’s hands slid up his narrow, boney chest. But when Bucky pushed Steve back onto the mattress he didn’t follow after him.

Quickly, before Steve could register that Bucky wasn’t joining him, Bucky stooped, and pressed a light kiss to Steve’s stomach before abruptly straightening, and strolling to the door. "Breakfast first.“ He repeated, flashing Steve a dazzling smile before dropping him a quick wink. "Don’t move sweet heart. I’ll be right back.” And with that, Bucky swept out of the room , closing the door behind him.

-.-

As he strolled casually down the hallway, Bucky allowed himself just a moment to breath deeply, rubbing his hand over the bulge in the front of his pants. Fuck, Steve was just _too damn pretty!_ How the hell was he supposed to drag this out if he was half-way to shooting off the minute he kissed the kid? He just had to focus. He wanted this to be good for Steve, maybe a little mean, and a little torturous, but good, and he couldn’t do that if he couldn’t keep his mind off of sucking marks onto every inch of his goddamn body.

Reluctantly, Bucky forced himself to forget about Steve for just a few minutes, focusing on acquiring them breakfast. He couldn’t be seen himself. His parents still thought he was out after all, and if they didn’t now, they would the moment they found his window cracked open and his shoes missing. They wouldn't worry; of course not, Bucky slipped out without warning all the time, but to be seen would break the illusion of his absence. That left him one option. He had to find the right person to ask for help.

Bucky knew the staff who tended his family’s mansion well. He’d slept with a good handful of them, and knew who had the strongest loyalties to his father, and who’s silence could be bought off with favors. So Bucky slipped through the halls, dodging the footsteps of the servants he didn’t wish to be seen by, and listening for the sounds of those he did.

Finally, Bucky glanced around a blind corner, and spotted one of the younger women on his father’s staff. Elisa was fairly new to her position, and hadn’t yet adopted the staunch loyalty of some of the older staff members. Bucky had endeared himself to her in the past, and he knew that, with a few well placed words, he could acquire her help with little risk of discovery.

“ _Elisa_ ,” Bucky called in a soft, sing-song tone, turning the corner openly and strolling over to her. The young woman glanced up, and Bucky watched as her mouth pulled into an uncertain little smile. Bucky knew she liked him, how, or to what extent, he didn’t know, but she had yet to feel out how casual she was allowed to be with the son of her powerful and dangerous employer.

“Good morning, James.” She said with a little nod, keeping her head respectfully tipped.

Bucky’s smile spread into a warm grin, his atmosphere calm as he tried to put her at ease. “Morning,” he responded, sliding an arm around her and pulling her closer with a conspiratorial smirk. “Hey, Elisa, I need a favor.” Bucky said in a low tone, knowing his directness wouldn’t offend, or even surprise her. The staff was well aware of Bucky’s spoiled behavior, and he doubted any of them would take him seriously if his motive were to suddenly seem pure and unselfish. So Bucky continued with a tactic he _knew_ was familiar.

“Look,” he pressed, “my folks don’t know I’m in today and I wanna keep it that way. But here’s the thing, I’m entertaining a uh- a _friend_ in the east corner bedroom and I’d _love_ to have breakfast for the two of us. Be a doll and get me some.” Part of Bucky wanted to soften his approach. Elisa was a nice girl, and just making demands with the expectation of her service was out of line and he knew it, but it was _exactly_ how Elisa would have expected him to act, so he had to remain in character.

Just as he’s expected, Elisa gave him a patient, if a little long-suffering smile, used to being bossed around by her employer’s silver-tongued son. "Of course. What would you like me to bring?“ She asked, looking up to meet his gaze.

"Anything,” Bucky responded hurriedly, “don’t go to too much trouble, just something warm, with enough for two, okay?”

Elisa blinked, for a moment, taken off guard that Bucky hadn’t demanded a full, complex order. “Yeah…sure. Of course.” She said, shaking her head and Bucky beamed at her.

“Thanks-” he breathed shortly, flashing her an easy grin before pecking her lightly on the cheek and wheeling away. “Yer a peach, Elisa.” He called over his shoulder, before taking off at a jaunty jog back through the house, leaving Elisa, a little stunned at his sudden change of spirit.

-.-

Bucky drew up just short of the door, about to stroll right in when he thought better of it. If he flew in with no warning, he might scare Steve so badly his fragile heart would burst. He needed to be careful so as not to frighten him.

“Steve,” he called, only just loud enough to be heard, “I’m back, I’m gonna come in, okay?”

“Hang on.” Bucky hesitated, blinking in confusion until he heard Steve unlocking the door, and his confusion faded. Steve was a smart kid, and he knew how to think on his feet. Had anyone, for some reason, tried to walk in, Steve’s thinking to lock the door behind him would have bought him enough time to hide, and Bucky felt a little tug of pride.

The door swung open and Bucky’s expression phased into an easy grin. Steve on the other hand, didn’t look so amused. His gorgeous, delicate features were twisted in an adorable scowl. He looked frustrated that Bucky had whipped him up and then strolled out on him like it was no big deal, but there was no real bitterness in his gaze, and Bucky could see that his annoyance was more comical than anything.

“Y'gonna let me in, Beautiful?” Bucky teased.

Steve’s cheeks darkened at the new nickname, and he abruptly moved to swing the door shut on Bucky’s noes, but the older boy caught it easily, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Come on, Gorgeous, don’t be like that…” He purred, forcing the door open and slipping through before it clicked closed behind him. With an easy twist of his fingers, he engaged the lock, before sliding away from the door in one slow, sinuous movement.

Steve, still brooding in silence, retreated back, his gaze flicking distractedly to the sinful movement of Bucky’s hips. “Shove off you fucking _tease_ …” He grumbled under his breath, turning his bare back to him and hunching his narrow shoulder. But Steve knew he’d lost the moment Bucky’s hands crept across his waist.

“Don’t be mad, Stevie…” He drawled, tucking his mouth against the flushed shell of Steve’s ear, his hands rubbing soothingly over his hipbones. “Just tryin’ to take care of you…”

In a fraction of a second, the tension melted out of Steve’s body and his eyes fell closed, relaxing against Bucky’s broad, muscular chest. A deep, low sigh escaped Steve’s throat, and he tipped his head back as Bucky’s mouth found his throat, working slowly from his ear to his collar bone. “Y'cant just tease me like that, asshole…” He muttered, his voice wavering slightly as Bucky sucked softly over his pulse point.

“You want me again already?” Bucky smirked, shifting his head and suddenly licking a hot strip up Steve’s neck, the younger boy shuddering under his touch. “Thought you might not'a been ready yet…but if that’s what you _want…shit Steve_ , if you want me to, I’ll take you however you like…”

This coaxed a soft moan from Steve, and his hands slid back, fumbling slightly until he anchored his grip on Bucky’s legs. The material of his sweatpants slid under his hands, but his fingers pressed into the soft skin and firm muscle, gripping into Bucky’s upper thigh just to keep his knees from going out from under him. “Fuck Bucky…” He whispered huskily, his breath coming in shuddering gasps as Bucky licked, and sucked, and nibbled at his throat, driving Steve fucking insane.

“Y'like that?” Bucky pressed with a curious smirk, one hand sliding lower to just barely brush over Steve’s erection. “You want me to fuck you, baby doll?” He whispered, tracing his tongue along the rim of Steve’s ear. “I could take you against the wall…shove your pants down just under your cute little ass and fuck you good and rough, still half-dressed, until you make a mess of the clothes I was nice enough to let you borrow…”

Steve whimpered needily, his fingers digging into Bucky’s thighs as the older boy stroked his cock through the soft material of the sweatpants, spots already damp with precome. “Or… _yer so tiny_ \- I could just pick you up…let you wrap those pretty, slender legs around my waist and let you hang on for dear life while I fuck you standing up…what do you want baby? You want me to suck you off? Or open your gorgeous ass up with my tongue and rim you till you scream…”

“ _Fuck_ -” Steve gasped raggedly, Bucky’s words summoning filthy images in his mind, making his cock ache with arousal. “Anything-” he blurted hurriedly, “ _anything_ , just- fuck- Bucky, just- I need you-”

Bucky purred against his neck, his fingers curling around Steve’s length through the sweatpants and giving an experimental squeeze that had Steve squirming in his arms, a wrecked whimper tearing from his lips. “ _Eager_ …” He whispered, almost to himself, kissing just below the boy’s ear. “So pretty…always so nice and receptive for me…” Steve squirmed needily against him, panting raggedly as Bucky's hand slid from his cock, creeping to his waistband.

Suddenly, there was a tentative tap at the door, and Steve realized Bucky had done it _again_.

Steve jerked back, jaw dropping in disbelief as Bucky abruptly pulled off of him, grinning like a loon at his cleverness. _“You fucking jerk!”_ He hissed softly, Bucky laying a finger against his smiling lips as he strolled to the door.

“Leave it outside, Elisa.” He called, his tone even, and collected despite that fact that he could barely hold back his laughter at the sight of Steve’s face, flushed with disbelief that Bucky was going to make him wait _again_. “And thanks,” he added as an afterthought, waiting until the footsteps had recessed before unlocking the door.

Ignoring Bucky’s dismissal of anything fancy, Elisa had managed to whip together two beautiful breakfast plates with tall stacks of pancakes with syrup, and sides of fresh fruit and berries, a cup of steaming hot coffee beside each plate. Bucky stooped, retrieving the tray and straightening once more, closing, and dutifully locking the door behind him. “On the bed,” Bucky ordered easily, smiling as he soaked in Steve’s expression with delight. Stopping after getting his hands on Steve’s gorgeous cock was pure _torture_ , but Bucky’s knew it was all going to be worth it when he finally took Steve all the way. As it was, Steve adorable looks of disgruntled frustration was almost incentive enough.

Huffing an agitated sigh, Steve crawled back into bed, glaring daggers at his grinning companion as he joined him. Bucky, balancing the tray carefully on one hand, fixed the thick comforter over their legs, setting the tray down between the two of them. “Alright, eat up Sweetheart, you must be starving.”

Steve hesitated before coming to the conclusion that his comical annoyance at Bucky wasn’t worth snubbing perfectly good food. And was he ever fucking _hungry_. Until the light, yeasty scent of the pancakes met his nostrils, it hadn’t register just how famished he was. But now, with the amazing food set right under his nose, Steve’s stomach clenched and ached with hunger, his body feeling suddenly weak from a lack of sugar.

Wordlessly, Steve took one of the plates, and sliced into the stack with his fork. He knew he couldn’t eat too fast, or he’d rupture his delicate stomach, and _that_ was a catastrophe he’d rather not add to their rapidly mounting plate of troubles. So Steve cut his pancakes, and began eating slowly, chewing each mouthful thoroughly despite his body's instincts to hork down as much as he could as quickly as possible.

Swallowing a mouthful of pancake and fruit, Steve wiped at the corner of his mouth, glancing up at Bucky. He’d decided to temporarily forgive him for the vicious little game he was continuing to play with him. “Isn’t it a bit risky? Letting one of your dad’s staff know we’re here?” Steve pressed, curious, and a touch nervous despite Bucky’s air of confidence.

“Elisa won’t snitch.” Bucky said simply, absently fixing his coffee up the way he liked it before continuing. “She never saw you, and she doesn’t even know if you’re a guy or a girl, just that I’m probably fucking the ever living shit out of you, which is hardly big news in this house anyways. Trust me, _‘boss’s son screws mystery partner_ ’ isn’t the kind of headline the staff thinks is important enough to pass on to my dad. We’re fine.”

Steve flashed him a dubious look, but continued eating. If Bucky’s reputation was anything to go by, Steve could understand why the staff wouldn’t bother to go on about something like this. But still, knowing that there was at least one other person in the house who knew that Bucky (and subsequently, himself) where here, made him suddenly queasy with nerves. Everything in Steve wanted to press for when they could find a safer hiding spot, but he bit his tongue. He couldn’t think of a single place where he would be safe, and if he couldn’t, why should he expect that of Bucky? He was doing the best he could, and as soon as he thought of something, Steve knew he’d be the first to know.

True be told, Bucky _had_ been thinking, a _lot_ , but no matter the avenue, no one option seemed any safer than the others. Here, they were _least_ likely to be searched for, but _most_ likely to be stumbled across. His father had informants _everywhere_ , so no hotel was safe, and any of Bucky’s friends that he could call in favors from _inevitably_ had stronger loyalties to his father than to himself. _Of course_. No one really wanted _Bucky_ , not for anything, they only wanted a Barnes...Unless Bucky wanted to hole Steve up in some dingy, little, unregistered place that would undoubtedly be dangerous in its own respect, he was out of options.

The only good thing that came out of this mess was that he got to spend an indeterminate length of time with Steve. He could stay here with him, in one of the classiest rooms Steve had probably _ever_ been in, and treat him to all the best food, softest, cleanest clothes, and warmest beds money could buy. He could smother him in all the luxuries he’d always wanted too, and Steve would just have to enjoy it, cause they were pretty much stuck here, and in Bucky house, what he says goes.

Breaking the stillness, Bucky smirked and shifted forward as he swept his finger through the pool of syrup on the edge of his plate. The syrup was thick, and sticky, and Bucky turned, abruptly dabbing a spot of it on Steve’s collar bone.

Steve jerked in surprise, clearly having been lost in thought until Bucky wiped the warm, sweet syrup across his skin. “Buck-” he protested, but the words suddenly died in his throat as Bucky leaned forward, sealing his mouth over the spot. Steve dragged in a half breath, releasing it shakily. “Buck- don’t do this again,” he murmured, his eyelids fluttering as Bucky swept his finger up Steve’s chest, moving to slowly lick at the sticky sweetness.

“You need to learn to be a little patient, baby doll,” Bucky murmured in response, his lashed brushing against his cheeks as he kissed and sucked his way up Steve’s chest. Without hardly looking, Bucky felt for the edge of the plate, collecting a little more syrup on his index finger and dabbing and streaking little bits all across his chest and hips, leaving two glistening, sticky beads on his flushed nipples. “I’m gonna take care of you…just wait a bit…no need to rush our date…we’ve got _all day_ …”

Steve groaned a loud, _desperately_ hoping Bucky only meant _'all day'_ in the metaphorical sense. If Bucky was going to do this to his all fucking day before giving him any real satisfaction, Steve was going to go out of his mind. But when Bucky eased him onto his back, Steve complied with a whine if frustration. He had Bucky’s number by now, he knew what he was going to do. Bucky was going to bring him right to the edge and pull him back again. But now that Steve knew how to play the game, he figured it _might_ be a game he could learn to enjoy. If Bucky was going to tease him within an inch of his life, Steve would return the favor until the tables had turned at Bucky couldn’t help himself anymore.

Bucky started at his hips. He swept his tongue, wet, and warm, over his skin, licking up the dark, drops and smears on his pale flesh. He closed his eyes, indulging in Steve’s breathy little whimpers and sighs, unaware that the smaller boy was biding his time for his revenge. Working slowly upwards, Bucky sucked, licked and kissed at his hips bones and stomach, nuzzling against his Stevie’s beautiful, soft flesh, and laving it was affection. He pause to lick the sweet drops and smears of syrup from each, boney rib, licking up his chest until he could suck Steve’s perfect little nipples clean.

_Fuck he loved how sensitive he was._

Steve jerked, and twitched under his hands, releasing a groan of pleasure as Bucky set to work on his nipples, the stimulation making his cock ache. But now, Steve had Bucky _exactly_ where he wanted him.

Steve’s hands, formerly resting on Bucky’s shoulders, began tracing, slow, and light down his spine. His touch was maddeningly delicate, sending a prickle up the back of Bucky’s neck. In a sudden, smooth movement, Steve slipped his thin, boney hands under the waistband of Bucky’s pants, shoving back the material and groping his sculpted ass.

Bucky startled in surprise his brain suddenly shorting out, because _holy fucking shit_ \- Steve's thin, artistic fingers felt absolutely _incredible_ kneading into his ass. His grip was surprisingly strong, his fingers pressing past the soft white flesh and into the firm muscle below, digging, and flexing as his fingers slipped between the cheeks of his ass.

“Fuck Steve-” He blurted shortly, Steve’s hands flexing as he groped him unashamedly, and suddenly Bucky knew he’d lost control of the situation, because the pressure on his ass increased as Steve pulled him flush against him and rolled his hips upward.

Bucky’s vision burst with white, his jaw dropping as Steve dragged him against him, rolling, and shifting his hips in filthy, sinuous movement. He ground his cock against Bucky’s, feeling it, erect through the fabric of his sweatpants. _Fuck_ \- Bucky had to get this back under control, quick, or he was gonna fuck Steve right then and there, and that wouldn’t do. He had their whole morning planed out, and fucking Steve’s sweet little ass didn’t come till later. But shit if it didn’t feel _good_ …

Bucky whined his head dipping helplessly as Steve took control from the bottom, his movements flooding his body with pleasure, and his mind with filthy images. “Steve-” he gasped, suddenly forgetting all about the syrup that still smeared his lovers skin. He could probably rearrange the plan…Who said they had to stick to a rigid schedule? He had Steve to himself for most of the foreseeable future, he could afford to switch things up a bit…

With suddenly desperate movements, Bucky grabbed the waistband of Steve’s sweats, yanking them off his shifting, grinding hips and lunged to crush their mouths together. “Fuck Stevie-” he panted into his mouth, grabbing Steve’s lush lower lip between his teeth and sucking it feverishly before releasing it, dipping his head to suck and bite at his throat. “Fuck- never mind…let’s screw patience, huh?…roll over baby doll-” he gasped raggedly, framing Steve’s narrow waist in his wide, muscular hands, but Steve refused to budge.

“Buck-” Steve breathed shortly, his back arching, making it impossible to turn him over easily. Bucky dragged to a stop with a low whine, squeezing his eyes close.

“What?” He panted, squirming needily. “There’s supplies in the bathroom, I’ll get'um in a sec just- just let me-”

“I’m sticky.” Steve said simply, looking up at Bucky’s desperate expression with mounting delight. He’d begrudged Bucky stringing him along before, but now he saw why he liked it. Bucky kept squirming, and shifting restlessly, staring at him like he was the only thing in the entire fucking universe that mattered, like he’d be satisfied with nothing else but him for the rest of his life. It made Steve’s stomach feel warm and bubbly, his cheeks flushing with pleasure at the attentive desperation in Bucky’s stare. But they were still playing the game, and Bucky had to know that Steve wasn’t going to be a passive player.

“You mentioned a bath…” Steve tempted, drawing Bucky closer to press a tender kiss to his lips, the older boy whining at the contact. “I think I’d like that…nice hot water…you can wash me just like you wanted…”

Bucky’s eyes fell closed, and he let Steve lay the soft little kisses again his lips. _Fuck, he’d fallen for a guy who was as much of an asshole as he was_ …Steve had picked up on the game Bucky was playing and had suddenly shown himself to be a _far_ superior player…But Bucky was weak, and what Steve wanted, he got.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly, swallowing back his reluctance, consoling himself with the knowledge that the bath would be almost as good. After all, he would get to run his wet, soapy hands over every inch of his body. If Steve wasn’t going to tease him, he’d let him clean him out good and thoroughly before Bucky fucked him, let him stroke his pretty, perfect cock under the water…

Blinking, Bucky came back to himself, smirking at Steve as he pulled back. “Should'a guessed you were gonna be a little shit about it…” He muttered thoughtfully, pushing Steve back into the pillows with a grin as he tossed aside the comforter. “Set the plates aside, get undressed, and meet me in the bathroom. I’ll run the water.”

Smirking secretly, Steve complied. As Bucky slipped out, and the bath water started running the the adjacent bathroom, Steve collected the dishes in a neat pile, leaving them beside the door. Steve absently brushed his hand down down the length of his chest, still tacky from the syrup Bucky had been licking and sucking off his body. He’d had to admit, he’d been proven wrong. The syrup had made him a little doubtful at first, but Bucky had proved his idea. Feeling Bucky kiss, lick, and suck the spots of syrup off of his delicate flesh, tasting the sugar on his lips when they’d kiss, had been unbelievably hot, and though Steve had been aching for more, he’d picked up on the rules of their game. Bucky wasn’t the only one who was allowed to have fun.

Steve tugged the sweatpants all the way off his hips, stepping out of the boxers as he walked to the bathroom door. The water had been running for some time now. Bucky must be ready for him, but pushing open the door, Steve stopped dead.

He had felt Bucky’s naked body under his hands last night, hot, and slick with sweat, but in the darkness, he hadn’t gotten a chance to really _see_ him. Now, in the atmospheric lighting of the bathroom, Steve drank in Bucky’s physique in aching detail. His pale skin was smooth, and perfect, seeming to glow in the pale yellow light. He was naked, bent over at the waist beside the tub as he added sweet smelling oils and foaming salts to the steaming water. The older boy’s body was sculpted with slim, powerful cords of muscle in his calves, thighs and ass, running along his biceps and forearms. And fuck- Bucky’s cock rested, half-hard between his thighs, and Steve felt his lips twitch with the sudden impulse to drop to his knees and take it in his mouth. Bucky was fucking perfect, and on top of he aching coils of lust in the pit of his stomach, Steve suddenly felt a flush of inadequacy. He slipped back, suddenly hyper aware of his own, less than awe-inspiring physique, easing back around the doorway.

Just as Steve was about to slip out of sight, Bucky glanced back, his expression lighting with a smile. “Stevie! Come on, I’ve got it all ready.”

Steve grimace, stuffing the expression as he dragged his reluctant body into the bathroom, his feet dragging as everything in him wished to stay out of sight. An ugly voice jeered in the back of his head, whispering in his ear that any attraction Bucky felt for him _must_ be a fetish. He was small, and skinny. Steve had never seen himself as attractive, and had grown used to other people thinking the same. The only reason Bucky could _possibly_ be interested in him was if he had a fetish, even a temporary one, for someone…small…fragile…homely…someone to make him look good in comparison. Why else would he want him? Over the last few days, the ugly voice had gone remarkably silent. But now, facing Bucky in in full light, being forced to face his own insecurities, the voice was back, only now it wasn’t whispering, it was _screaming_ , and it was making Steve feel sick.

Slipping around the door frame, Steve kept his chin tipped down, his eyes lowered, a flush creep from his neck, all the way up to his ears. He could feel his face burning. He could feel Bucky’s eyes taking him in with a casual sweep.

“Steve,” Bucky said, a smile in his voice as he strolled over. Steve kept his chin resolutely down, but Bucky reached out, touching his fingertips under his jaw and lifting his reluctant gaze. Bucky met his gaze, smiling tenderly, reassuringly, as his thumb brushed across the sharp point of his chin. “Y'look kind of embarrassed.” He smirked, and Steve’s shoulder dropped. Maybe it would be better to take the easy out Bucky was offering him.

“Yeah,” he huffed, forcing a little smile. “A bit.”

Bucky clicked his tongue softly, giving Steve an easy smirk. “Well, relax, Sugar. You’ve literally had my dick up your ass, you don’t need to be getting bashful about takin’ a bath with me.”

A wry smile pulled at Steve lips, although he still wished Bucky would just stop looking at him. It would be easier to pretend he didn’t notice Steve’s painful inadequacy. “Right.” Steve murmured shortly, trying to drop the subject as he quickly moved towards the edge of the tub.

And suddenly the piece fit together.

Bucky turned after Steve, suddenly grabbing the younger boy’s arm. “Hey,” he breathed, feeling Steve tense under the touch. Turning the boy gently, Bucky took Steve’s chin, lifting his face firmly to his own. “You’re _beautiful_.” He said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument, and he bent, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s razor sharp cheek bone. “Your fucking _gorgeous,_ and I don’t know who’s been telling you otherwise but they’re out of their damn mind.”

Steve’s body tensed with conflicting emotions, caught between wanting to hunch away, and hide himself, and relax into Bucky’s touch.

“Stevie..your perfect…you’re _so_ pretty… _so pretty_ , baby doll…listen to me…that’s my good boy…that’s my Stevie…” Bucky’s hands slid, soft, and tender down his sides, rubbing over his jutting ribs and hip bones, soothing up and down the ridges of his twisted spine. “You’re _perfect_ …y'got that gorgeous? Beautiful…I ain’t never seen anyone like you before…wouldn’t change a thing…not one fucking thing.”

Resolve crumbling, Steve sunk into Bucky’s arms. The older boy cradled him close, kissing across the top of his head, peppering his cheeks and temples with soft, tender kisses.

“Come here,” Bucky whispered, guiding Steve over the edge of the tub. “Lets clean you up, hm? Promised me I could wash every inch of that gorgeous body…”

Steve followed, silent, and compliant, Bucky’s praise making him suddenly lightheaded, his chest aching so painfully he though he might be having a heart attack. But it was warm. His chest was tight, but it was warm, and the warmth had begun to spread through him, prickling along his limbs and seeping all the way out into his fingers and toes. Bucky thought he was beautiful. Steve thought he was blind, but the notion made his heat ache with affection regardless. _Bucky thought he was beautiful…_

Steve stepped into the tub, slowly at first, his cold feet seeming to burn as they touched the water, until he adjusted to the temperature. It was hot, but comfortably so, and soon, Steve could sink fully into the warm, sweet smelling water, Bucky close behind him. The older boy slipped easily into the tub, slowly easing down behind Steve and slipping one arm around his waist, drawing him into his lap.

Steve blink in surprise, but move compliantly, a intimate silence falling over them as he settled into the hot water, Bucky’s body, wet, and firm behind him.

It felt fucking incredible.

The water was perfect, steaming and foamy, and scented with lilac, and Bucky’s arms were warm, and comforting around his waist. He seemed to accept the silence, accept that Steve didn’t quite know what to do with his praise, with his affection. Truth be told, neither did Bucky. He’d never felt like this about _anyone_ before. What he felt for Steve was transparent, and completely unselfish, and it was strangely unfamiliar, because all he wanted was what was best for Steve.

After a long moment, Bucky moved, lifting a bar of scented, expensive soap from the tray and lathering his hands. Starting at Steve’s neck, he massaged his hands over his thin, knobby body, washing the sweat, grim, and sugar from his flesh.

Steve’s eyes dropped closed, trusting, even when Bucky’s strong hands circled is throat, rubbing, and stroking to clean away the grit of the past few days. As Bucky’s lathered hands slid over every curve, and dipped into every crevice of his body, Steve felt the fear that had plagued him for so long begin to wash away. He felt all the uncertainty and terror sooth to nothing under Bucky’s tender ministrations, and he felt himself truly relax for the first time in what seemed like years.  

Bucky relathered his hands frequently, rubbing them down his boney ribs and spine, pausing to press soft kisses to the wet flesh across the back of his neck. He breathed in the faintly floral scent that now lingered on his lover’s perfect skin, tasting just a trace of lilac on his damp, flushed lips. Dipping his hands under the water, Bucky washed Steve’s lower body, his fingers finding their way to the boy’s cock.

As Bucky’s fingers grazed his member, Steve felt a faint shudder run up his spine, and he craned into the touch, pressing closer against Bucky’s chest. The other boys hands were warm, and steady, the water making Steve all the more sensitive as he curled his fingers around him, beginning to tug it in slow, languid strokes. Steve let out a half breath, a moan catching at the end of the soft little gasp. The blond shifted, his narrow shoulders turning as he caught Bucky’s jaw in one hand, and claimed his mouth in a damp kiss.

All the playfulness, and teasing of earlier had gone, and Bucky melted into Steve’s touch, still stroking him, tender and slow, and when Steve parted his lips, Bucky let his tongue dip inside. How had Bucky gotten it so good? How had a spoiled, selfish bastard like him have _ever_ gotten so luck to have someone like Steve?

The two boys, sunk up to their shoulder in the hot, foamy water, kissed, slow, and lazy, indulging in the wet slide of skin on skin, and in the taste of each other’s lips. Steve turned more fully, until his chest rested against Bucky’s, the older boy’s hands sliding through the water until they came to rest, cupped perfectly, over his ass. He curled his fingers, kneading deep, and slow into the soft skin, as Steve clung to his neck, his mouth working softly against his. 

Steve panted into Bucky’s mouth, shuddering with pleasure, as he slowly, tentatively, pressed one finger against the tight ring of muscle, beginning to work him open. This wasn’t a game anymore, or if it was, they had both forgotten how to play, because all they wanted was each other. The hot water warmed Steve’s body though, the sweet oils making him dizzy, and lightheaded. His only support was to cling to Bucky, the older boy’s intoxicating kiss sending him higher with every brush of his damp, wet tongue against his own.

Like Steve, Bucky’s mind had gone devoid of anything but _Steve_. Nothing could have distracted him from how perfect Steve’s lips were, how soft, and delicate they were on his own. Nothing could have shaken him from the heady bliss of feeling the other boy’s cock pressing against his stomach, of stroking Steve’s velvety insides, opening him up tiny increments at a time, and knowing that Steve was his. He could feel Steve shuddering in his arms, panting and gasping against his lips as Bucky’s finger rubbed in soft stroke along the inside of his body, intimately stroking him, and knowing he was the only one. It gave Bucky a warm thrill of selfish pleasure, knowing that he was the first, and only person to ever touch Steve in this way; that before him, Steve hadn’t known what it was like to give himself to someone so completely. Bucky was the _only_ one, and Steve had ruined Bucky for anyone else ever again. 

_If Bucky couldn’t have Steve, he didn’t want anyone._

By this point, Bucky had lost track of all time. All he knew was that his head was dizzy from the intoxicating sensation of Steve’s tongue working against his own. All he knew was that Steve’s perfect body was stretched easily around three of his fingers, the oils in the water having eased the process, making Bucky’s fingers slick, and smooth.

Reluctantly, Bucky tipped his chin, a breath of space breaking between their swollen lips. “Steve…” Bucky whispered breathlessly, his eyes closed, lashes scattered with crystal droplets that had condensed from the steam that rose off their bodies.  

Steve swallowed, breathless, wordless, his head spinning from the heat, and the oils, and the touch. His body was numb, and tingling, Bucky’s fingers still stroking in and out of his body. 

Bucky was a mess. He’d never needed someone like he needed Steve right now. Having the boy’s naked body against his own in the hot water, touching him, but not _having_ him, was pure torture. He _needed_ him.

“Steve-” he whispered again, his voice low, and ragged with desire. He didn't know what state Steve was in, weather Steve was aching for him the way Bucky was aching for Steve, but he hoped with all the desperation in him, that Steve would let him have him. “I need you. Please- please Steve, let me have you…” He begged softly, and a heady moan caught in the back of Steve’s throat.

“Here?” He whispered, soft, and tentative, suddenly shy.

“Please?” Bucky murmured, his forehead pressed against Steve’s, his lips still brushing against the other boy’s as he spoke. The thought of turning Steve over and fucking him right there in the bath made Bucky ache with desire. He wanted to feel the water moving over their skin, feel Steve shifting, weightless, underneath of him as he gasped and whimpered with pleasure. “Will you let me?” He breathed, and Steve managed a light headed nod.

“Yeah, y-yes.” He said with a little more conviction, his breath coming in heady, ragged gasps against his lips.

Bucky shifted forward, tugging Steve into a brief kiss before easing on to his knees. “Get comfy, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.” He whispered, knowing that, regardless of how much he wanted to take him right now, Bucky had to make sure his Stevie was comfortable, and protected.

Slipping reluctantly from the bath, Bucky padded across the tiled floor, water pooling in puddles around his feet, steam rising from his bare skin. In comparison to the intoxicating, sweet-smelling heat of the bath, the air seemed biting cold, and Bucky hurried to the lowest drawer under the sink. Dropping one knee on to the cold floor, Bucky rummaged through the the drawer, grabbing the supplies he needed before slipping back to the edge of the tub, the drawer hanging open in his wake.

While he’d been gone, Steve had let just enough water out of the tub that he could comfortably lay on his stomach, his weight rested on his elbows, without having to fight to keep his head above water. He lay there now, chin just touching the surface of the frothy water, his spine arching deliciously as he held himself up, his delicate, slender legs crossed at the ankles behind him. _Fuck he was sinful._ Steve was simultaneously the picture of innocence, staring at him with huge blue eye, out from under those dame’s lashes of his; and seduction personified. The corners of his lips were turned up in a smile that toed in line between flirtatious and innocent. It was as if the doe eyes and shy smile where a private show _just_ for Bucky, like his play of unsullied chastity was exactly what he knew would get Bucky wanting to corrupt him thoroughly. And fuck if Steve didn’t achieve the desired effect.

Bucky, suddenly aching with want, slipped to the edge of the tub, hurriedly tearing open the condom and rolling it down the length of his erect cock. Tearing open a small packet of lube, Bucky stroked himself slick, trusting that that, along with the oils in the water, would be enough to keep his precious Stevie comfortable. A huff of relief escaped Bucky’s lips, as he sunk into the tub, the water level rising around him.

Steve glanced back over his shoulder, staring at him chastely from under his long, dark lashes. “Is this okay, Bucky?” Steve asked, his voice soft and innocent as he dipped his spine, lifting his ass so that it broke just the surface of the water, oil glistening off his wet flesh.

“Oh fuck-” Bucky whispered, his mouth dropping open, a soft, needy moan catching in his throat. “Steve you filthy-” the words suddenly died in his throat as Steve shifted his legs apart, his calves framing Bucky’s thighs, the boy’s delicious pink tongue resting between his teeth.

Bucky didn’t need to be invited twice.

With a shuddering gasp, the older boy moved forward, nudging Steve’s legs farther apart as he pressed his bare chest against the curve of Steve’s spine. The little knobs of his backbone pressed into Bucky’s skin, and the older boy moan, feeling the boy’s frame so close under his body, his cock sliding between the cheeks of Steve’s perfect ass.

Steve’s little act suddenly shattered, a raw moan escaping him as Bucky’s cock brushed softly against the tight knot of skin, his sensitivity heightened by the water he was submerged in.

Desperately, Bucky turned his face into the side of Steve’s slender neck, kissing and sucking feverishly at the flushed skin. His hands slid over Steve’s body in the water, brushing over his ribs and hips, moving to graze lightly over his cock. The boy shivered under his touch, the heady little moans, and gasps spurring him on. Slowly, so that Steve knew he was still going to treat him with the utmost care, despite his teasing, Bucky lined his aching prick up with Steve’s prepped entrance.

This time, it gave easily. As Steve gave himself over to Bucky for the second time, there was no tension, no moments of discomfort or pain. When Bucky’s thick cock slowly penetrated Steve’s body, the younger boy didn’t start, or cry out in alarm. He relaxed under Bucky’s touch, shivering with pleasure as little gasp and sighs rippled the water under his nose.

“Good boy…” Bucky whispered under his breath, because though the silence had been intimate, and erotic, he’d felt compelled to praise the boy. He was so good, so receptive for him…just for him.

Easing forward, Bucky pushed himself deeper, occasionally draw his hips back a bit before slowly pushing back in, allowing Steve time to adjust to the size of his cock. But Steve was needy, and as desperate as he was. Though Bucky gripped his hips, trying to hold him in place, Steve shifted his hips under the water, rolling them back, pushing Bucky deeper. Every exhale was a low, erotic moan, Bucky continuing to kiss and suck at Steve’s throat as the boy scrunched his nose in pleasure, jaw dropping open.

“Bucky-” he gasped raggedly, his arms beginning to quake underneath him from holding up his weight, the feeling of Bucky’s cock stretching him wide making him weak with arousal. And suddenly he felt Bucky’s thighs, flush against his ass, his cock buried to the hilt inside him, and a wrecked moan tore from his lips. He was hot, and full, the aching, burning in his ass just on the right side of pain. Bucky’s breath was labored against his neck as Steve’s muscles clenched and fluttered around his cock, the rubber dragging at his sensitive, velvety insides. He could have stayed there forever, submerged in the steaming water, full to bursting with Bucky’s long, thick girth, the other boy’s hands stroking him so tenderly. He could had forgotten the entire world that surrounded them, forgotten that their relationship could never be safe, and normal, _hell_ , he could even forget that he never knew which minute would be his last, so long as he could stay here…right here…so long as Steve could stay in Bucky’s arms, he would be happy.

Bucky began to shift his hips, slowly at first, and in tiny increments as Steve adjusted to the movements. And then he fell into a rhythm, rolling his hips, in deep, slow thrusts that had Steve falling apart, reducing him to a helpless, shivering mess. The boy gasped raggedly, his arms shaking almost too hard to keep him up, but Bucky was relentless. He pushed into him, deeper with every thrust, the water swirling around them in waves and eddies, steam rising off of their naked bodies as their wet skin slid together. Bucky stroked Steve’s length languidly, tugging gently at his member, occasionally pressing his thumb into Steve’s slit.

The blond moaned aloud, the moisture trickling down his temples no longer condensation, but sweat. Bucky’s hand felt fucking amazing around his cock, dragging and twisting, rubbing his thumb over his sensitive slit as milky drops of precome mingled with the water. His mind had gone all but completely blank as Bucky ravaged his tiny, fragile body in the sweetest way possible, thrusting into him, long, and slow, and stimulating him until white spots burst in front of his vision. Steve was teetering on the edge, knowing that one little movement could nudge him over, but that’s exactly where Bucky kept him.

It was like their earlier game, but sweeter.

Bucky read Steve’s body language like an open book, and when the boy began to shudder more violently than before, when his lips formed helpless little gasps and half-articulated words, he would ease off, focusing his attention on the boy’s neck instead. He laved affection on his lover’s pale skin, mouthing at his jugular vein, and pressing his tongue against the hollow of his throat. Little blotches of purple had raised to the surface, though Bucky took only brief notice of them. He’d been so intoxicated, so lost in the perfection of Steve’s gorgeous body that he’d hardly registered sucking the tiny brands onto his skin. They dotted his neck and shoulder, one just under the left side of his jaw. They brought out the porcelain white perfection of his skin, and gave Bucky a sense of security that Steve was _his_ , that he was allowed to have him, to mark him, but only with affection.

Bucky knew he had a temper, he knew that there were ugly parts of him that were hostile, and violent, but he promised himself that these were the only kind of bruises he’d ever leave on his Steve’s body. He bound himself to the oath that the _only_ marks Steve would ever receive from him where marks he _wanted_ , marks he would look at in the following days and brush his perfect, delicate fingers over, smiling as he remembered the pleasure and love that was tied to them.

Bucky feather soft kisses over each of the little red and purple blotches, beginning to stroke Steve’s cock absently. He’d pulled him back, and the boy had gone relaxed under his hands, so Bucky focused on pleasuring him once more. His sweet boy had waited long enough.

Pressing closer, Bucky tugged at Steve’s weeping cock, stroking along his length and giving his wrist a twist at the flushed head, coaxing a desperate cry from Steve’s swollen lips. As the sinful rolling, movement of his hips matched the pace of his hand, Steve began to shudder again. The violent, desperate shivering was Steve’s tell that he was teetering on the edge, and Bucky latched his mouth onto the underside of his jaw with a heady moan, sucking on his pulse point as he pushed into Steve. _Closer. Harder. Deeper._

Steve’s back arched, a broken cry tearing from his lips a moment before his cock pulsed in Bucky’s fist, spilling his release into the water.

Bucky was only a instant behind him.

As Steve’s body tensed from the force of his orgasm, his ring of muscle tightened around Bucky’s aching member, and a choked off moan died in his throat. Bucky’s mouth froze open in a silent scream, his breath hot on Steve’s throat as a wave a pleasure suddenly crashed through him, his weight baring down on Steve’s back. Bucky came in Steve’s ass, the water clouding as the excess of his release slid down the length of his shaft, escaping the latex covering.

It took Bucky a moment to come back to himself, his head spinning, thoughts scattered like droplets of water. It took him a moment to realize that his arms had gone weak, and the entirety of his weight was resting on Steve’s narrow shoulder blades. The boy, still panting, and shuddering, had his head craned all the way back, gasping at the air as the water crept up around his ears.

Hurriedly, Bucky pushed himself up onto one elbow, sliding his free hand under Steve’s arm. Pressing the flat of his palm against Steve’s chest, he lifted his upper body, taking the strain off of Steve’s arms, allowing him to breath more freely. The boy dragged in a deep breath, his eyelids fluttering as Bucky slowly drew his softening cock out of his tender hole, stripping the condom and tossing it aside. As Steve caught his breath, he shifted, rolling on to his back with a soft moan.

Bucky eased forward, closing the deplorable distance that had broken between then when he’d gone to remove the condom. Now, Bucky settled his weight on his right elbow and hip, his upper body twisted to press against Steve’s heaving chest. “You okay baby doll?” He whispered, blinking rapidly, trying to see through the dark chestnut hair that clung to his sweaty forehead.

Steve nodded breathlessly, his swollen, flushed lips still parted, brow drawn ever so slightly as he focused on catching his breath. The water had gone luke-warm around them, but neither one could have cared less.

Shifting closer, Bucky stooped his head to press a soft, delicate kiss to the smaller boy’s collar bone, his finger tracing lightly over his stomach. “ _Good_ …” He whispered, tucking his face into the crook between his shoulder and jaw, reclining in the water, necking with him lazily.

Steve uttered a low sigh, his numb, tingling finger coming up out of the water to tangle through Bucky’s damp locks, tugging softly through any knots or snags. Bucky’s mouth felt like _heaven_. Just like the night before, Steve’s body had grown almost painfully sensitive after he came, but Bucky’s soft lips on his throat was just enough, and his heightened senses made it even better.

Bucky ravished his lover’s throat with affection, words of praise flooding his mind until he couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer. “So good…” He whispered against Steve’s skin, turning his head to such just under his jaw. “My good boy…so pretty…oh, Stevie…Stevie you’re perfect… _so perfect_ …love you so much…”

Steve’s eyes suddenly snapped open, his half-drawn breath catching, weak heart stuttering in his chest. “ _What?_ ” He whispered, the word barely audible, and Bucky felt his body jolt with adrenaline.

“You okay?” Bucky pressed urgently, drawing away from his neck and taking in the boys look of stunned alarm with a growing unease. “You alright, baby?”

“No- yes-” Steve blurted, giving a feverish little shake of his head, his fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair. “ _What did you just say?_ ” He demanded, voice breaking, gaze almost frantic. It scared Bucky to death.

He faltered, suddenly scrambling, trying to think back to what he had said. He’d been in auto pilot. He hadn’t been thinking, he’d just been… _fuck_ …he’d just been praising Steve, _adoring_ him, doting on him, he hadn’t been _thinking_. “I-” Bucky stammered, wishing the look of alarm would fade from Steve’s face. “I don’t- I- you’re _perfect_.” He said softly, lifting a hand from the water to stroke his cheek, trying to sooth away the edge in his expression, but Steve just reached up his free hand, clasping Bucky’s dripping hand in his own.

“After.” He said firmly, his breathing uneven, gaze piercing.

“I don’t-”

“You said you loved me.”

Steve’s words hit Bucky like a slap and he blinked, the bluntness of reality abruptly crashing in to him. He _had_. He’d told Steve he loved him. Bucky hadn’t been thinking, he’d let the words fall from his lips without even considering because that’s what had felt natural, what had felt right. He’d said it because it was _true_.

But seeing Steve’s alarmed expression now…what if it wasn’t what _he_ wanted.

“Oh.” Bucky said dumbly, staring at Steve in conflicted agony, because now he had to face up to the truth. He _loved_ Steve. He didn’t just want to use him and throw him away, he didn’t want to see him hurt. _He loved him_. He wanted to take care of him, keep him safe, tell him how beautiful he was, how perfect he was until he believed it. He wanted to give him all the best things in life, and even if he could give him nothing, just being with him was enough. Bucky wanted to be with Steve for every precious second he had, he didn’t want to ever have to let him go…he loved him…loved him so much it made his chest ache and his throat tighten… _he loved him_ …Bucky _loved_ him.

Steve’s expression hadn’t changed, not accepting the single, broken syllable as an adequate explanation. “What does that _mean_?” He asked, voice low, and soft, unreadable.

Bucky swallowed back the knot of tension rising in his throat, his head suddenly pounding with nerves as he unconsciously tried to draw away. “What does it- it means I love you! I-…I _love_ you…okay?” He whispered, voice dropping off to almost nothing. He didn’t know what Steve’s expression meant, but Bucky had never feared rejection before in his life. I had never mattered before in his life because never once had he felt this way for anyone, and now, Bucky was suddenly afraid that, whatever he was to Steve, that Steve _didn’t_ love _him_.

Steve fingers slowly slipped from Bucky’s hair, and he drew his knees close, his eyes suddenly glassy with shock. “You don’t-…do you mean that?” He asked, his words breaking off and reforming mid-sentance.

Bucky dragged in a shaky breath, suddenly trying to recover himself. Easing in slowly, Bucky reached out a hand, tenderly cupping Steve’s jaw. “With every fucking bone in my body.” Bucky breathed, pressing close, his opposite hand coming up to cradle the side of Steve’s neck, his forehead pressing against his. “If you don’t want me, _I understand_ …but I love you. I just- you _gotta_ know that…”

Steve, still staggering under the sudden weight of realization, reach up, one hand fumbling along Bucky’s jaw, his eye unfocused, breathing short.

“Steve?” Bucky whispered, pressing closer, his mouth almost grazing Steve’s as he spoke. “Talk to me… _please_? Just tell me…Steve…just tell me 'cause if I don’t know I’m gonna go outta my freaking head…”

Steve’s gaze lifted, eyes suddenly clearing into sharp focus, and he lurched forward, closing the gap between their lips in one rushed, heated movement.

Bucky’s stomach suddenly exploded with butterflies and he pressed forward urgently, clutching to Steve’s tiny body to him and pressing him against the wall of the tub, water sloshing out over the edges. Steve’s arms twined clumsily around his neck, clinging to him desperately as he kissed him in a frantic desperate rush of disbelief, and a sudden release of tension that he hadn’t known he’d been carrying.

Bucky loved him. He _loved_ him. And _Steve_ loved _Bucky_.

“Fuck-” Steve managed, Bucky swallowing his desperate little gasps. “I- mhh-” Bucky muffled his words until Steve shift his head, space breaking between their lips for just a fraction of a second. “ _I love you_.” He gasped, the words barely out before Bucky had claim his mouth once more, grabbing his face in both hands and kissing him like Steve was the only good thing in the world. And in Bucky’s world, he _was_.

Gradually, the rush of desperation ebbed, and the kissing turned slow, and languid, Bucky’s hands stroking over every facet of Steve’s body, Steve pressing into his touch. They arching against each other, starved for the touch and affection that they seemed to have been waiting for their entire lives, and only when Steve began to shiver from the rapidly cooling water did Bucky’s tender affection slow.

Bucky broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he nuzzled against his love's cheek, still dropping kisses against every inch of skin he could reach. “Come here…” He whispered breathlessly, easing Steve up into a sitting position before gathering his shivering body in his arms. Bucky half- lifted him from the tub, stepping out and letting his feet down on the cold tiles. By this point, the air didn’t seem near so biting, and Bucky lead his precious Steve back into the bedroom. Yanking back the covers, Bucky tugged him gently down into the bed, drawing his naked body against his own and wrapping the two of them in the thick comforter. “There…” Bucky whispered, Steve pressing into his touch. “There we go…that’s my sweet boy…that’s my precious Stevie…I love you…I love you so much…” The words fell from his lips like water than had been dammed up for too long. He hadn’t realized until just now how long he’d wanted to tell Steve he loved him, and now there was nothing stopping him, because Steve loved him back… _Steve loved him…_

Steve leaned into the older boy's touch, his eyelids closed, drinking in his affection. He let Bucky's words wash over him, the assurance of his love beginning to stitch, and heal the tears in his soul from years of loneliness, from years of believing that he would never be wanted. But it was all different now, because Bucky loved him back.. _.Bucky love him..._

But a weight was beginning to settle in the pit of Steve's stomach, a weight he couldn't shake.

“Bucky?” Steve whispered, his hands coming up between them, one fingertip softly tracing patterns across Bucky’s chest.

Bucky smiled faintly, indulging in the sensation. “Yeah? What is it, Sugar?”

“You know we don’t stand a chance, right?”

Bucky froze, his expression falling. Steve was right. _Of course_ they didn’t stand a chance. They never had. A poor boy from a practically starving family with the son of the most vicious mob boss on the east coast? It couldn’t work, through no fault of theirs either. Bucky was assumed, -no- _expected_ , to take of his father’s role once he grew up. He was _expected_ to carry on the family’s gory, visceral empire so his father could retire, and live in peace, drowning in the scarlet money he’d killed for over the decades. Steve…without intervention, would graduate high school, and go straight to work in a dead-end, drudgery job that would work him to the bone, breaking him a little more every day, just to help keep whatever survived of his family fed…that is... _if_ Bucky’s father didn’t find him, and kill him within the next few weeks…

Steve’s finger had stilled on Bucky’s chest, no longer tracing soft patterned across his skin. His gaze was lifted up to him, raw, and honest. He loved Bucky, but his life was on the line, and he couldn’t afford to see what they had through rose-cored glasses.

Bucky swallowed painfully, catching Steve’s gaze and releasing an aching sigh. “ _Yeah_ …” He murmured, stroking his fingers down the boy’s back. “You’re probably right….”

Bucky fell silent, but both boys were able to fill in the blanks; the word that they had left unsaid, the words that held a spark of stubborn, irrational hope that somehow they would survive this together. It was the hope that Bucky wouldn’t have to kill, and Steve wouldn’t have to die.

_Yeah, you’re probably right, but I’m with you anyways._

 

_I’m not leaving you._

 

_I love you._

 

_…I love you…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Sorry we're a little later than normal here, my new baby niece was just born and I've been out of town for a few days. But I'm back on schedule now, I hope some porn and feelings will help you forgive me.


	9. Chapter 9

Waking up next to Bucky was becoming almost normal. For three days now, Steve had fallen asleep every night in Bucky’s arms and woken up there the next morning. He’d seen what Bucky was like at 11:00 PM and at 4:00 AM. He’d memorized his breathing patterns, and sleeping positions; he’d learned how Bucky liked to be woken up, and in what positions he liked to fall asleep. He found out just how much he loved to trade lazy kisses before his eyes closed, and how he always ended up with sleep lines across his cheek.

So far, their little haven in the middle of the chaos had remained remarkably undisturbed, and Steve was _loosing his fucking mind_.

 

 

 

 

He hadn’t so much as seen outside of the bedroom and adjacent bathroom in three day. Bucky had insisted on keeping the heavy curtains drawn over the huge window to protect them from eyes on the street, dragging Steve away whenever he caught him peering through the gap. Even with the books, laptop, and art supplies Bucky had furnished him with, Steve felt like he was going to loose it. He felt claustrophobic and trapped, taking to pacing the room madly, begging Bucky for some small measure of freedom until Bucky felt more like his captor than his protector.

It was agony, watching Steve slowly grow more and more anxious until he could hardly sit still, pacing between the two room that had become his world. He was agitated, and tense, occasionally lashing out at Bucky even when he knew he didn’t deserve it, but Bucky just let him. Letting Steve blow off steam was the only thing he could offer him. Bucky's hands were well and truly tied.

His mind had been spinning on their problem for days and one fact always rang true: that no place on earth was safer than any other. Bucky would rather Steve hide here, right under his father’s nose where he had access to a bed, bathroom, and good food, than having him holed up in a seedy motel where he never knew where his next meal was coming from. Besides, of he was here, he could be with Bucky…Bucky could protect him, and watching over him…they could tentatively explore the beginnings of their new relationship.

The one thing that hadn’t gotten old after the first day was the sex.

As it turned out, Steve fucking _loved_ sex, and Bucky was more than willing to help him test out all the untried territory. With all the time in the world on their hands, Steve and Bucky did a _lot_ of experimenting. Bucky tested out different positions, finding which ones made Steve scream, or reduced him to a babble, shivering mess in minutes. They played around with techniques, and toys, Bucky dabbling on just the edge of bondage play before Steve decided he wasn’t fond of being tied to the bed. He felt trapped enough as it was, and when Steve gasped out their established safe word, Bucky hurriedly complied, untying his lover and spending the next hour or more just kissing him, and stroking him softly until the tension had faded from his body.

When Steve was anxious, or bored, Bucky would take him to bed, sometimes taking him fast and rough until his body ached and he forgot all his restrictions and fear. Sometimes, Bucky would roll over him once Steve had settled in for the night. The boy would mutter sleepily, but Bucky would hush him, laying soft, tender kisses against his neck, and slow fucking Steve for hours until their orgasms crashed over them in exhausting waves and the two, sweaty, debauched boys fell asleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s naked bodies.

But despite all his best intentions, Bucky knew he couldn’t keep Steve forever.

-.-

Steve bent over the pile of discarded clothing by the foot of the bed, checking, and tossing one article of clothing after another. The pile had been getting bigger by the day as Steve changed in and out of the clothing Bucky brought him. _All_ of it belonged to Bucky, which meant _all_ of it was too big. Though a part of Steve was annoyed by always having to push the sleeves back on his arms or having to add rolls to the pant legs, he had to admit that there was something comforting about wearing Bucky's things. The clothing was clean, and soft, and smelled like Bucky. Besides, Bucky found the way his button-ups slid off of Steve’s boney shoulder irresistible, and would often slip up behind him, kissing across his collarbone as Steve suppressed moans of delight.

But today, Steve was only looking for one thing.

While he rummaged through the pile of discarded articles, Bucky rested back on the bed, bare-chested, his fingers laced behind his head, feet crossed at the ankles. He studied Steve with a faint smirk, eyes catching on the way his too-large pants hung off his perfect hip bones, the way the collar of his polo shirt exposed his beautiful throat and just a pale slash of his chest.

“Lost something Stevie?” Bucky asked with a lazily flirtatious smirk, his eyes hooded. “ _Your virginity maybe?”_

Steve shot him a dirty look, dropping to his haunches as he pieced through the pile, staunchly ignoring the jab.

“I think I saw it last in my room…three- four days ago.”

“Shut up, jerk.” Steve grumbled, pitching another pair of sweat pants. “Where’s my shirt? The one I came in.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose, sniffing imperiously. “Dunno,”‘He responded absently. “It might be in my room but I don’t know why you’d bother, it was on its way out anyways.” Bucky dismissed, settling his head back once again. His Stevie deserved better than the worn, threadbare wardrobe he’d been settled with, and if he wanted something that fit him a little better, Bucky would just buy it for him. Nothing was too good for Steve.

“Well, I _need_ it.” Steve said shortly, feeling his agitation rising despite Bucky’s relaxed attitude, but however edgy and frustrated he was, Steve reminded himself that Bucky had done nothing to deserve his anger. He was doing his best for him, and Steve’s irritation stemmed purely from being trapped in such a small space for too many days. He had to keep perspective. Inhaling to try and cool the mounting aggravation inside him, Steve glanced up at Bucky, meeting his gaze evenly and praying for his understanding. “I need my clothing, Buck. _I’m leaving today._ ”

Bucky lurched where he sat, adrenaline suddenly dumping into his bloodstream, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. “ _What?_ ” He demanded, voice breaking with alarm as all the relaxed, causal flirtation was stripped from his tone. “ _No!_ ” He blurted, bolting out of bed, but Steve was already half way to the door. “Steve- Steve no, stop it. _Stop it right now!_ ”

“Buck- I can’t stay here forever, you _know_ I can’t!” Steve protested, struggling to maintain a neutral tone when Bucky was coming after him. He backed against the door, throwing the lock with a click. “Why does it make a difference if I leave now that three weeks from now?”

“It _doesn’t_ , cause you _not_ leaving.” Bucky snapped, suddenly desperate as he reached out seizing Steve’s upper arm in an iron grip. “Now _forget it!_ I’m _not_ letting you leave!”

Steve recoiled, pulling against his hold with mounting anger, his cheeks flushing scarlet. “You can’t _trap_ me here!”

“Oh yeah? _Watch me_ , Sweetheart, 'Cause you're not leaving this room!"

Steve’s gaze locked with Bucky's, his eyes laced with mutiny and poison. Bucky had half an instant to realize that his protective actions had shifted to possession before Steve suddenly tore out of his grip. He wrenched his arm away from Bucky and threw open the door, bolting out into the hallway at a dead run. Bucky’s stomach turned to lead. His heart stopped in his chest as a wave of horror and alarm crashed through his system and he scrambled after him.

“Steve no!” He cried, only vaguely aware of how lucky they were that the hall was empty. Steve was already halfway down the length of the hall, running on deer’s feet, light, and silent, his body driven with determination and a touch of madness. He was anxious, afraid, and homesick, he was terrified for himself and his family and it was dimming his logic. Bucky was possessive, uncertain, and helpless, he found himself completely incapable of fixing their situation and it was impeding what little empathy skills he’d developed. Between the two of them, they’d crashed together at a potentially deadly impasse.

Bucky tore after the younger boy, terror writhing in heavy coils in his gut, his head pounded as he choked on the desperation that forced its way up his throat. _“Steve!”_ Bucky begged, his voice breaking as it went suddenly hushed, unable to risk drawing attention to themselves. “Steve, I’m sorry, please- please just listen- _please.”_

For a second the blond faltered, before his footfalls dragged to a stumbling stop, his body rigid, still poised on the balls of his feet. He was still for a moment, stiff, before he tuned his head back, meeting Buck’s gaze with hostility and an aching pain.

Swallowing, Bucky held out his hands, open, and imploring, _begging_ Steve to listen. _“Please.”_ He breathed, moving slowly towards him, Steve’s eyes widening as he tried to close the distance between them. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I’m sorry I shouted…I'm sorry I grabbed you…I know you’re anxious, but just listen to me.” Bucky eased closer. Steve was facing him fully now but still looked ready to bolt the second Bucky made an unexpected move, rocking on his toes, his eyes alight with a mad glint. Bucky wet his mouth, wishing this conversation could happen back in the safety of the room, but knowing to suggest it would bring on another lash of temper from Steve. He supposed being trapped in a house like his would make anyone a little crazy.

“Look…” He breathed, “Your sick of being cooped up. You’re worried about your family, I get it. But going out there…Steve- they’re gonna find you. They’re gonna hurt you, and they’re gonna _kill_ you and I _can’t_ let that happen.” Bucky whispered, his voice breaking unexpectedly, because the thought of what his family would do to his Steve was enough to make him nauseous with fear. “I let you go now…and it’d be as good as killing you myself…and you _know_ I could never do that… _please Steve_ … Please don't make me loose you…you’re the only good thing I’ve got…”

Slowly, the look of mad determination ebbed from Steve’s expression, and, with guarded care, he let Bucky approach him.

Bucky reached out, brushing his hands tenderly over his arms, soothing where he had grabbed him too roughly in the heat of the moment. “Please Steve…” He whispered, unable to think of anything more to say. Steve was the only person in his entirely life that he’d ever felt for beyond selfishness and lust, and he loved him more that he’d ever thought himself capable. He loved Steve with _everything_ in him, and through him, was starting to become better…more _human_. Loosing Steve…it was more than Bucky could stand to imagine.

For just a brief second, Steve’s gaze flickered to the end of the hall, staring towards the freedom outside of his tiny, two-room prison, before a wave of exhaustion crashed over him, and his body slumped under Bucky’s touch. “Buck _,_ what if they’re dead?” He rasped, his voice low, and broken, still staring back over his shoulder. “I can’t see them…I _know_ it’s not safe to call them…I just- if something happens to them…I’ll know it’s my fault…if they can’t find _me_ …they’ll hurt _them_ …” Suddenly, Steve’s head whipped towards him, face drawn with an aching terror, eyes flashing with suppressed tears. “ _Buck, what if they have already?”_

“ _Steve!”_

“No! Buck- what if your dad got tired of waiting for his men to find me? It’s _dad_ he want to make suffer anyways, what if he killed him? _Or mom?_ Bucky-”

Bucky’s hands tightened on Steve’s arm, his grip firm, and reassuring. “Steve-” he breathed, trying to force back his fear of being in the open for a little while longer. “Steve you can’t think about that and you _know_ it. You _can’t,_ okay sweetheart?” Bucky pressed forward, drawing Steve close until his forehead rested against the other boy’s. "You gotta just focus on getting yourself out alive, okay? They're gonna be _fine_...Now look, I know I made a fucking awful first impression on your folks, but what would they think of me if I let their little boy get hurt?” He murmured, hands coming up to cradle Steve’s face tenderly in his palms.

Steve dragged in a shuddering breath, his eyes falling closed before a tiny, bitter smile curled at the corners of his lips. It was comforting to hear his parents spoken of in the present tense. “They’d probably never let you come around for Easter dinner, that’s for sure.”

Bucky snorted, trying to mask his relief that Steve was acting a little more like himself. “Oh Honey, we’d be _way_ past Easter dinner. Now come on, let’s get out of the open.” As Bucky lead Steve back through the door, he felt the boy’s heels catch on the carpet, his body tensing for just a moment more before he allowed himself to be pulled back into the room, and away from the freedom that would have killed him.

Steve followed after Bucky reluctantly, reaching back to tug the door closed with a soft click, and was suddenly smothered be a wave of defeat. How useless was he? Just sitting here? Endangering his family simply by remaining alive? But then again, what could he do? Sacrificing himself was hardly an attractive option, and although if it came down to a choice between his life, and the lives of his parents, he would take it, he knew Bucky would hardly be willing to allow it.

Dropping back against the door, Steve exhaled, low, and painful, his eyes dropping closed in weary defeat. “I’m sorry, Buck.” He murmured softly, his shoulders limp, head tipped back. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position, I was scared for my folks, and I just- I just thought anything was better then sitting here…”

Turning back to him, Bucky’s lips tugged into a sympathetic smile, and he eased forward, gently drawing Steve away from the door. “Don’t worry about it,” he breathed, hands brushing over Steve’s soft, golden hair. “Y'scared the shit out of me, that’s all. I ain’t mad at ya…”

Steve pressed into Bucky’s touch, his hands curled right against his chest as the older boy enveloped him in a firm hug. The warmth of Bucky’s arms, and the scent of his clothing was comforting, and Steve buried his face into his chest, fingers bunching the material of his shirt as a shudder suddenly took his tiny frame.

“Hey-” Bucky whispered, his chest suddenly aching with pity as Steve pressed into him, shivering, starving for his comfort. “Hey,"he murmured again, drawing him close. "Steve, Stevie no…oh baby…I’m sorry…I’m _so sorry_ …never meant to trap you here…I swear Stevie. I just- I thought you’d be _safer_ …I’m sorry…I just want you safe, baby doll…” He soothed, stroking his hair and kissing the top of his head, lips brushing over his soft flaxen hair.

Steve swallowed hard, trying to control that trembling that wracked his body. He was strung tighter than a piano wire, everything in him tense, and quivering. “I know,” he said, the words coming out as a half-gasp as he tried to reign in the anxiety coursing through his veins. Dragging in a steadying breath, the boy slowly tipped his face up, managing a tight smile. “I know…thank you Buck.”

Bucky stared down at him, a pained smile touching his lips as Steve bottled his nerves, putting on a brave face. His Steve…his wonderful, _brave_ Steve… Bucky swallowed back the knot in his throat and took Steve’s face in his hands, laying a tender kiss against his mouth. “Anything for you, Sugar.” He murmured in a lightly teasing tone, willing to try _anything_ to ease the tension.

At Bucky’s easy quip, the blond’s smile relaxed, growing a little more genuine. “You _still_ wouldn’t know a good line if it tap-danced up to you and slapped you in the face would you, Barnes?” Steve smirked, hating to admit that all of Bucky’s nicknames, Sugar, particularly, had grown on him.

Bucky shoved Steve back with a glimmering flash of a grin, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Y'got a problem with it, doll face?” He demanded, remembering the first time Steve had jabbed at him about his opening lines. _God_ , it seemed like forever ago…yet at the same time, it felt like it had been mere hours since they both been isolated, aggressive boy, terrified of their feelings for one another. Bucky remembered sitting in the dark interior of his car with Steve, the two of them jabbing and teasing at each other before Bucky tried to remember that he had to be heartless, and Steve tried to remember that he had to be frigid, and closed. It had been a brief glimmer in Bucky’s dark, and bloody world, and now that little glimmer was _his_ , and he had a million more like it. A million little moments with Steve, a million little bright points in his dangerous and dirty life, and Steve.... _Steve was the sun._

Steve bit his lip, smirking, and Bucky felt his heart flop over his his chest, still hopelessly gone over that perfect little smile of his. But the light of his life had a mouth, and a quick wit, and wasn't afraid to use either of them against him. Still smirking, Steve lifted his chin, his tongue brushing his lower lip. “No problem," He said with a shrug, "I just like yer mouth better when it ain’t running.”

A scoff escaped Bucky’s lips and he stalked closer, eyes darkening playfully. “Oh that’s _rich_ coming from the punk who can’t keep his trap shut for one fucking _second_. Who was it that mouthed off and got himself punched in the head? Must'a been you, cause it sure wasn’t _me_.”

A thrill ran up Steve’s spine at the banter and he stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Bucky until they were pressed chest to chest. “You rather I keep my mouth shut?” He challenged, his fingers looping sneakily through his belt loops. Bucky’s smirk widened.

“Sure wouldn’t complain. Yer mouth gets into more trouble than all the rest of you combined.”

Abruptly, Steve dropped to his knees, watching with absolute delight as surprise and confusion washed over Bucky’s expression. He stared up at him, gazing through his long, thick lashes, wetting his flushed lips with a sweep of his tongue. “If that’s _really_ what you want.” Steve murmured, closing the delicious gap between his lips and Bucky felt his knees go suddenly weak.

“ _No_ -” he protested shortly, his brain shorting out at the sight of Steve on his knees in front if him, but with his lips pressed stubbornly together. “No, no, Stevie- that- that’s fine…I’m…thinkin’ I’m not liking your mouth shut as much I though I would.”

Steve watched him, flirtatious despite the doe-eyed expression. _Fuck_. This dumb punk had him completely wrapped around his finger. How could he look so sweet and innocent and so completely filthy and corrupt all at the same time? Bucky swallowed hard, Steve still watching him with closed lips, and glimmering, teasing eyes. Steve had been calling all the shots before in their sexual exploits, but he’d never offered this before. As much as Bucky had _wanted_ the boy’s lush, gorgeous lips around his cock, he hadn’t thought it was even on the table. Now Steve was on his knees, lips all but _touching_ the front of his jeans, and he wouldn’t _open his fucking mouth._

Slowly, Bucky reached forward, threading his fingers through Steve’s soft blond hair and tugging, the younger boy moving with the gentle pull until his perfect mouth brushed the bulge in Bucky’s pants. “ _Please_ Stevie?” Bucky whispered, feeling the other boy’s breath through the thinner material of his shirt, right along his waistband, light, and warm. “Put that smart mouth of yers on me?”

A thrill ran up Steve’s spine as Bucky begged him. It was masked with confidence, and teasing, but Bucky was begging him none the less, and it sent a prickle of delight through his entire body. There was something about it, something about knowing Bucky wanted him _so badly_ that he’d plead for his touch that made Steve lightheaded with pleasure. Easing forward, Steve pressed his mouth against the front of Bucky’s jeans, feeling his cock, stiff, and trapped inside the fabric. The boy exhaled, low and warm, and was rewarded by the shudder that passed through Bucky’s body, the other boy’s hand tightening in his hair.

“Oh fuck Steve- _please!”_ He begged, voice suddenly breaking desperately.

Steve nuzzled up the hem of Bucky’s shirt, his wet, pink tongue poking out just enough to touch Bucky’s skin. Above him, the older boy gave a breathy sigh, and Steve pressed his mouth just above his waist hand, sucking a lovely, flushed, red blotch onto the soft flesh. His brushed his lips over the mark with a smirk of satisfaction, flicking his tongue over it just once before lifting his gaze to Bucky, lashes lowered, pupil’s blown out.

“Get yourself out for me, tough guy.”

Bucky jerked into motion at the verbal command, hurriedly unzipping the front of his jeans. Before, Bucky hadn’t been ready to admit it because he was so accustom to being the dominant force, but he fucking _loved_ when Steve took control. He did it in his own way, usually, still from the bottom, but Steve wasn’t afraid to demand what he wanted. Even on his knees, Steve commanded Bucky’s complete, and total obedience, and Bucky wondered if, with a little more experience, Steve might actually _like_ BDSM. When they had dabbled a little in tie-downs, Steve had quickly become uncomfortable, safe wording Bucky within the first few minutes. Bucky was beginning to wonder if Steve would have been more comfortable if their roles had been reversed, if Steve had been in control, and Bucky had been the submissive one. Bucky felt that Steve would need more experience before he was comfortable dominating, or even just topping Bucky, but in time, wondered if he might be open to the possibility. But that was a discussion for another time. Right now, all Bucky wanted was to feel Steve’s gorgeous, wet mouth around his cock.

Shoving the front of his boxers down, his jeans riding low on his hips, Bucky pulled himself out, instinctively moving to stroke along the length of his cock when Steve stilled his hand. He fixed him with a look, and Bucky dropped his hand away. Apparently, he wasn’t to touch.

Nodding his satisfaction, Steve turned his attention to Bucky’s erect member, a soft huff of air escaping his lips as he drank in the sight. _Fuck_ Bucky had the prettiest cock; thick, and sturdy, with its perfectly flushed head, and tip already shiny with precome. Steve wet his lips, feeling a little flutter in the pit of his stomach. This was new territory for him, but he hadn’t been a passive participant whenever Bucky had gotten him off with his mouth. He’d been paying close attention, learning, memorizing the way Bucky worked his lips and tongue, the pressure, and suction he’d used. Steve had been soaking in all of the technique Bucky had used on him, and was now eager to try his hand at it. Easing forward, Steve parted his lips, the slick tip of Bucky’s cock just bumping his lush lips before he committed. Steve dropped his jaw, taking Bucky’s entire length into his mouth in one easy movement.

White burst in front of Bucky’s eyes and a weak gasp tore from his lips. _Fuck_. He’d expected Steve to be tentative, uncertain, brushing his lips along his shaft, licking, and kissing before haltingly taking him in a little bit at a time. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Steve took Bucky’s cock in his mouth all in one shot, swallowing down his length like he’d been sucking cock his entire life. Fuck- did this kid even _have_ a gag reflex?

Steve felt the head of Bucky’s dick nudge the back of his throat, and the boy suppressed a soft choke. His throat tightened, but he swallowed around it, stopping for just a moment to adjust. He’d pitched himself in head first, no hesitation, when his mind suddenly blanked out at the overwhelming sensation. Bucky cock was hot, and heavy on his tongue, his mouth stretched around it, jaw dropped to take Bucky’s thick girth. He could taste the other boy’s precome on his tongue, strange, and unfamiliar. Steve suddenly felt his head spinning, going dizzy from the intoxicating intimacy.

“Stevie?”

Bucky’s concerned tone broke through the fog, and Steve blinked, easing back about halfway down the length of his shaft and dragging in a deep breath through his nose. Flickering his eyes up to Bucky, he met he other boy’s gaze, holding it for a long moment before slowly lowering his lashes, and sliding his cock further into his mouth.

At Steve’s movement, Bucky’s concern melted. Steve was a smart kid, he knew his limits and was willing to enforce them loudly, and firmly. If he wasn’t comfortable, he would have stopped without hesitation.

Steve, his mind clearer now, slid his mouth down the length of Bucky’s shaft, allowing his tongue to drag, long, and slow up the underside. He trace the the thick vein running under Bucky’s cock with the tip of his tongue, feeling him twitch in his mouth. The sound of Bucky’s helpless moan met his ears, and Steve felt a shiver of pleasure run up his spine, the noise spurring him on. He slid back, sucking on the head of Bucky’s cock, his tongue pressing forward to slide through his slick, messy slit. He lapped up the drooling precome, swallowing around the head, the increased pressure dragging an outright moan from Bucky.

“Oh shit-” he gasped, jaw dropping as his grip tightened through his precious Stevie’s hair. “Oh fuck- fuck, Steve- you- mhh…oh fuck, _did I teach you that?”_ He panted, his head dropping back with a groan as Steve swirled his tongue over the head of his cock. Steve’s only response was to glance up, his eyes glinting with mischief before he redirected his focus. Bucky could feel him consciously mimicking the kind of pleasure Bucky had released on him, mixing techniques, and experimenting with some things that Bucky _hadn’t_ shown him. But whatever he was doing, it felt fucking _amazing!_

Bucky shuddered, his fingers kneading feverishly through his hair. He choked out a gasp, panting as Steve’s hot, wet mouth worked over his cock, sucking, licking, and swallowing around his girth, focusing on just the tip, or taking him all the way down to the thatch of dark hair at the base. Bucky could feel the tension in his body building, but Steve knew his cues, easing off just when Bucky though he was going to break, but he never left him without some kind of stimulation. Steve dragged it out, nice and slow, and focused on making his Bucky feel good.

-.-

Mr. Barnes paced the halls, tense, and aggravated. This whole situation with Rogers _should_ have wrapped up days ago, but somehow, the boy kept dodging his men. Three days, and no one had so much as _glimpsed_ Steven Rogers; it was as though he’d never existed at all.

And in the mean time, Joseph Rogers went on thinking he was allowed to get away with lying to him, with manipulating his son to buy his safety, and continued deception. The thought made his blood boil.

He was _going_ to pay. Sometime soon -because the boy couldn’t hide forever- Mr. Rogers was going to see _exactly_ what happened when he tried to take advantage of _his_ son. He was going to deposit the Rogers boy’s bloody corpse on the doorstep, so that they’d never forget who they tried to make a fool of. And just because Rogers had rubbed him all the wrong ways, he was going to take care of the job personally.

What he couldn’t comprehend though, was how the boy had disappeared so thoroughly. No one but himself and one or two of his men knew that _that_ was how he was going to punish Rogers. The boy _couldn’t_ have caught wind of it, so why had he apparently dropped off the face of the earth? Where was the leak? _Which of his men had gone too soft to kill a kid?_

Mr. Barnes didn’t stand for weakness. Softness, and compassion were qualities he needed to carve out of his men. Whoever had decided to develop a conscious needed to be eliminated, or _severely_ punished at the least. Perhaps removing an eye would teach them not to grow attached to their targets.

The man heaved a sigh, running his fingers through his graying hair. He needed to talk to James, he’d promised the boy a piece of the action, and it was only fair that he know about the…snag…in his father’s plan. Then again, he’d seen very little of his son in the past few days, although he couldn’t say he was surprised. His boy’s pride had taken a vicious shot when Rogers had weaseled into his thoughts, planting ideas to fool him into granting them extra time. He’d believed him, and now, undoubtedly feeling foolish, and ashamed, had taken to sulking; nursing his injured pride. But his was time to get him involved again. After all, destroying Rogers would do _wonders_ for his boy’s mood.

Drawing up just short of Bucky’s bedroom, Mr. Barnes rapped on the door, startling slightly when it eased open under his knuckles. “James,” he called evenly, pushing the door the rest of the way open and peering into the empty bedroom. It looked as though it hadn’t been touched in days. The bed was unmade, and covered in clothing that looked as though it had been pitched there carelessly. Dresser drawers hung open, and all of Bucky’s devices, including his phone, laptop, and all their chargers where mysteriously missing. From the look of it, Bucky had spent hardly any time in his room at all over the past several days.

Frowning skeptically, Mr, Barnes eased in, stepping around some of the disaster on the floor when something caught his eye. Tossed among the rest of the strewn clothing on the carpet lay an arrival of clothing that certain had no place in a mansion like this. It was small, and grubby, with stains and stray threads, and worn little holes in the underarms. Not only was it too small, but James wouldn’t be caught dead wearing _anything_ of the sort. Picking it up by one sleeve, Mr, Barnes cast a glance at the tag, purely curious.

_S.R._

For a moment, his heart rate picked up, little bits of information trying to weave together. But the picture it formed was too ridiculous, and far fetched, so Mr. Barnes let the grubby garment fall from his hands, putting the vague connection out of his mind.

If James hadn’t been sleeping in his room, there were plenary of other beds in the house. He must be around somewhere.

-.-

One guest room after another proved to be unoccupied. Although it would have been simpler to send one of the staff on the hunt for James, Mr. Barnes was feeling so restless and aggravated that he’d just rather finish the job himself. He’d never sit still enough to do anything else anyways. This fucking Rogers business had him coiled tighter than a spring. He wanted the boy dead, he wanted Rogers to pay, and he wanted it now. End of story.

The man worked up from one floor to another, glancing into each guest room for any trace of his son. Maybe James would have some insight. After all, James had interacted personally with the Rogers where he never had, it was possible he had information that Mr. Barnes lacked.

But still, his son had disappeared as thoroughly as the Rogers boy.

Murmuring to dead air, Mr. Barnes stalked up to the fourth floor, his tension rising, body prickling with frustration. _Empty. Empty. Empty._ All the rooms were fucking _empty_. Was James _trying_ to avoid him? He approached the end of the hallway, his gaze catching on the bizarre, inconvenient little corner that that _moron_ architect had let slip into the finished product. It was a waste of space. The hallway turned in only the length of the room itself before dead ending with no more decoration than a marble topped table that was tucked in to make it a _little_ more sightly. He didn’t regret having the architect killed. Just looking at the flaw in his mansions grand design rubbed his already frayed nerves in all the wrong ways. The man turned away from it with a scowl, pushing open the door to the adjacent room, unaware that the objects of _both_ his searches were mere yards away.

Stepping into the room that separated him from his son and his target by one wall, Mr. Barnes glanced around. His eyes swept the room, watching for any trace of Bucky, a discarded shirt, a phone charger, anything. But the room was exactly as it should have appeared. Immaculately clean, and frustratingly unoccupied. He turned, about to abandon his search entirely, when a raw gasp met his ears, stopping him dead in his tracks. Mr. Barnes froze mid-step, listening, straining to hear any trace of the sound.

“Mhhh…fuck- _Steve_ -”

It was James, he was certain of it. Mr. Barnes was well familiar with his son’s exploits, and his tendency to seduce whoever he so desired, including strangers, the staff, and -much to his personal annoyance- his men. But he was growing into a young man, and he deserved some measure of privacy. Mr. Barnes turned to leave the room, when the pieces of knowledge that had formed a picture too far-fetched for him to even _entertain_ earlier suddenly crashed into him in a wave of ice cold reality.

He’d said _Steve_.

S.R.

_Steven Rogers._

He froze, the realization sinking in as the agitation that had simmered just under the surface boiled into fury. Mr. Barnes lifted his chin, his jaw locked, as he stormed from the room, the door swinging closed behind him. He tried to control his violent temper, tried to remind himself that James _may not_ have realized the magnitude of _who_ he'd dragged home with him. But if he had…if he had, then his son needed to be punished.

-.-

The sound of the door closing only yards away broke Steve of of the haze of pleasure. He jerked in alarm, his head yanking back abruptly, leaving Bucky’s aching cock wet, and cold. The sound had been too close for comfort. The other room; the hall _maybe_. His gaze flickered up to Bucky, eyes wide, suddenly dead silent.

For a moment, Bucky’s heart lurched in his chest, and he froze, before he swallowed back the anxiousness, letting out a half breath. _“It’s okay,”_ he whispered, voice barely audible as he gently tugged through Steve’s hair, easing him close once again. “It’s okay, baby doll, the door’s locked…” Bucky assured his young lover, giving him a warm, affectionate smile as he carded his fingers through the soft, blond strands.

Steve’s brow drew into a tiny frown, jerking his head in a nod as he moved to ease forward. The door was locked. If the door was locked, they were safe. Even if someone tried to come in, the locked door would give them enough time to hide, or possibly even find a ledge outside the window. They were safe, the door was locked.

Suddenly, Steve's heart stopped in his chest.

_The door wasn’t locked._

Adrenaline dumped into his veins, his mind suddenly exploded into a frenzy of panic, as horror drained the color from his cheeks. He remembered throwing the lock when he’d burst from the room earlier, remembered Bucky guiding him back inside. He remembered tugging the door closed, hearing the click, _but he hadn’t turned the lock back into place._

Bucky saw the fear flare in Steve’s eyes, and his stomach suddenly twisted into a knot of realization. “ _Oh god-_ ” he whispered, voice choking off as he hurriedly pulled himself together, jerking up his boxers as Steve scrambled up off of his bruised knees, bolting full tilt for the door.

Just as Steve’s fingertips brushed the handle, the door swung open under his hand and he lurched back with a cry of alarm. At the worst possible moment, Steve's foot caught on a stray shirt that's tossed aside earlier, sending him reeling. Bucky lurched towards him, and suddenly froze, the hot blood coursing through his veins turning to ice.

His father stood in the doorway, expression white with fury. His gaze locked on Steve.

The sight before him was disgusting. Mr. Barnes had never seen Steve himself, but it was all to obvious that he was exactly who he'd been searching for. He’d acquired a picture of Rogers, and the boy looked too much like him to deny. Blond hair, gaunt, drawn face, and fragile build. The t-shirt in the bedroom, the name uttered from his son’s own lips... _Steve_. The boy he’d been looking for, hiding right under his nose. And not only had this little weasel of a brat taken refuge in his own house, but he'd twisted his son around his finger as effectively as his father had, that much was obvious. Steve's lips were flushed, and swollen, the corners of his mouth gleaming with excess saliva. Bucky's jeans rode low on his hips, boxers bunched, fly still undone. This repulsive little urchin had gotten under his boy's skin, no doubt garnering James' sympathy.

Maybe his son was soft, maybe he was too young, and inexperienced to realize when he was being manipulated, and lied to, but Mr. Barnes wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky snapped out of his daze, the shock moving through his system as he realized he had one shot, and only one shot at keeping Steve safe, even for a moment longer. He had to distract him. “Dad-” Bucky broke out, trying to command his attention as Steve got his feet under him, but Mr. Barnes’ rage was tangible, and he wasn’t to be distracted.

Steve had only just stumbled upright when the man’s hand lashed out, striking, snake-like, as his strong, sturdy finger curled around Steve’s slender neck. A choke of alarm tore from Steve's lips, his skin crawling at his touch, but lurching back cause only a flare of agony. Dragging him forward, Mr. Barnes slammed him against the wall with an ugly _crack_ , pain exploding through Steve’s back. The bruising pain raced up his spine like electric as Mr. Barnes crushes his throat in one, muscular hand. He held his entire weight off the ground, his bare feet just barely brushing the carpet as the man cut off his air, choking the life out of his body. _Shit_. He’d neglected to lock the door, and now he was going to die for it.

Bucky’s thoughts had scattered, mind spinning in a sickening whirl of terror and guilt, but the sound of Steve's body crunching into the wall shook him. "NO!" He screamed, the sound startling his father as he lunged towards him. "Let him go!" His mind was black. His body moved automatically. He was going to hit him, kill him; wrap his hands around his father's throat and choke him limp, anything, _anything_ to protect Steve.

In one, splintered second, Mr. Barnes reacted. His free hand slipped into the pocket of his trousers, whipping out the switchblade nestled against his thigh, the knife glinting in a blurred flash of silver as it came up directly under Steve’s chin. He pressed in, a sharp sound of warning escaping him and Bucky suddenly staggered to a halt, his face going ashen with terror as a cry tore from his lips.

"You want me to drop him now?" He snarled cruelly, his gaze snapping to Steve, who's eyelids fluttered weakly, mouth opening and closing as he tried, unsuccessfully, to gasp for air. His bone-thin hands clawed uselessly at his, fumbling, and tugging as he tried to free himself. To drop him now would be to drive the five inch blade through Steve's lower jaw, through his mouth, and into his head.

“No-" Bucky gasped raggedly, his body jerking as instinct drove him to press forward, knowledge of his father insisting that to do so would mean Steve's death. “Dad please- please don’t do this- _please_ , don’t hurt him…dad…dad no- don’t-”

Mr. Barnes snapped his gaze over to his son. He was staring at him, wide eyed, horrified, his face drained of all color, expression twisted with desperation. He was _begging_. His son, was _begging_ him to leave this scrawny little brat alone. What had gotten into him? He looked sick, his expression twisted with terror as he watched the blade pressing into his fragile skin. It was almost as if he _cared_ about the boy.

Mr. Barnes stared at his son in disbelief, at the fear that flooded his expression at the blade pressed under the scrawny boy’s chin. “James, are you going to create a problem for me?” He gritted out, pressing the knife deeper, and watching with satisfaction as the delicate white skin _split_ , spilling crimson down the sterling blade.

Steve could feel his senses dimming, the flush of pain as the blade punctured his skin clearing his head for only a moment. His ears were ringing, vision darkening, and swimming with blotches as he tried to maintain consciousness. _He couldn’t pass out now_ …he couldn’t- he had to stay awake. Steve tried to focus, latching on to the sound of Bucky’s voice, but even _that_ was growing distant.

Bucky drew up short, nausea suddenly twisting through his gut as Steve’s blood trickled down the blade, droplets pooling around his father’s clenched hand. _Oh god. What had he done?_ “Dad…” He whispered pleadingly, “…Please dad, it’s my fault. _I_ hid him here, punish _me_ , hurt _me_ , but- just don’t…hurt _him_ …please- _please don’t hurt him_ …”

Steve’s gaze, glassy from lack of oxygen, and darkening with every passing second slid over to Bucky, a pained sound escaping his crushed throat. He wanted to scream, but nothing more than the gagging choke fell from his swollen lips. _Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt Bucky._ He could feel himself loosing consciousness, his weakly twitching hands dropping away from his throat. His mind was failing him, dimming, shorting out, one phrase repeating in his head for as long as he was conscious. _Don’t hurt Bucky. Don’t hurt Bucky. Don’t hurt Bucky…_

Bucky watched with sickened horror as Steve’s tiny body went limp under his father’s hand, windpipe crushed, robed of oxygen. He was pale as a corpse, still pinned to the wall, his father holding him there as effortlessly as a sack of rags. It was over. Bucky hadn’t been able to protect him. He'd dragged Steve headlong into the hell scape of his world and and now Steve was going to die, and Bucky was going to have to live with the knowledge that it was his fault.

Mr. Barnes, still pining the tiny body to the bedroom wall, stared at his son, who’s gaze was still locked on the boy’s limp figure. What had gotten into him? His son _never_ grew attach the people he fucked, particularly not boys like Rogers. What made this scrawny, impoverished little brat any different?

Fixing his son with a poisonous glare, Mr. Barnes dropped the blade away from Steve’s throat, swiping it clean on the boy’s shirt before shifting him away from the wall. Steve hung from his grip like a rag doll as he crumpled lowered, upper boy held off the floor only by the man’s hand circling his throat.

“Dad, Listen to me-” Bucky whispered, easing forward in a last ditch attempt to change his father’s mind. But the man threw open the door, tossing Steve into the hallway as easily as one might toss a sack of garbage. The boy crumpled painfully to the floor, all but lifeless.

“You and I are going to have a _long_ conversation about this later.” He snarled, his vicious stare enough to chill Bucky’s blood. “Until then, you’re going to stay out of my way.” The realization of the words hit Bucky like a battering ram, but before he had time to react, Mr. Barnes slammed the door behind him, something scrapping across the floor outside.

_“No!”_ Bucky screamed, voice breaking with horror as he suddenly lunged, throwing himself full force against the door, his body crashing into the sturdy oak. He staggered back, head spinning, nauseous with horror. He threw himself against the door again, shoulder bruising under the impact. Again. _Slam_. Again. _Crack_. He hauled back, slamming his fists against the immovable door as a ragged scream tore from his throat. _“No!”_ He screamed, beating his bruising, bleeding fists against the door. “ _No! No! Let me out!_ Dad! Dad please, _please_ stop! _Dad_ -”

Mr. Barnes glanced back over his shoulder, the door rattling behind him as his son beat into it, throwing his body against it and screaming like a man possessed. The heavy oak door shuddered, but didn’t budge, blocked in by the heavy, marble topped table from the end of the dead end hallway. His son was going to be punished severely for this, but at the moment, James was hardly his main concern. At the moment, all he wanted was to wrap up the entire mess, and make Rogers pay.

_He was going to enjoy mutilating this arrogant little brat._

Mr. Barnes glanced down to where Steve lay, unconscious on the hall floor, his chest shuddering in choking, uneven gasp, blood crusting his neck from the puncture wound under his chin. Stooped, the man threaded his fingers through the boy’s soft hair. He anchored his hand in the golden sheaves, feeling his weight pulling against his grip as he straightened. Mr. Barnes gave a rough jerk, and, dragging Steve’s unconscious body behind him, disappeared down the hall, his son’s agonized screams echoing in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand its getting ugly in here. Thoughts? Comments? Screams of agony? Drop a comment. :)


	10. Chapter 10

Thick bloody mucus clogged his throat, his breath coming in choking, gurgling gasps. He couldn’t see. His head throbbed with a searing pain that split from the base of his neck all the way to the crown of his skull. Steve’s fragile, battered body lurched as a deep, cough rattled his lungs, expelling the dense bile from his throat, adding to the mess of crusted blood around his mouth, chin, and neck.

 For a moment, all Steve could focus on was gasping for a clear breath before a cruel, calloused hand curled around his jaw, gripping painful into his raw skin and wrenching his face upwards. Steve cried out, another mouthful of scarlet blood splurting from between his lips.

 

 

 

 

“You like how that tastes?” Mr. Barnes pressed in a low tone, his trimmed fingernails digging bleeding crescents into his flesh. “Hm? Or do you like the way _my son_ tastes better?”

Steve dragged in a rattling breath, his body shuddering as he forced one, swollen eyelid open. The dark basement swam in his blurry vision, Mr. Barnes cutting a hazy figure in front of him. Steve could only just make out his face, but he could sense his expression, twisted in an ugly sneer, eyes black with rage. Steve's bloody mouth turned up into an aching smirk, lip splitting from the movement. “I think I’m partial to your son…” Steve slurred, the smirk crumpling, too exhausted to hold it.

Mr. Barnes’ face spasmed with irritation, and his hand suddenly whipped back, knuckled cracking viciously across Steve’s cheekbone. The boy lurched with a choking cry of pain, the impact sending him slumping to the side, held up only by the cuffs around his raw wrists. He was a pitiful sight. Shivering, and gagging, cuffed to a chair, and soaked with his own blood.

“You’re a smart ass aren’t you?” The man accused, grabbing Steve’s face again, this time dragging him so close he could feel the boy’s weak breath on his face.

“It’s a wonder you’re surprised…Considering I was able to tolerate your son…” Steve choked, his inflamed eyelid falling closed as a ragged huff of air escaped his lips.

Mr. Barnes stopped, staring for a moment in disbelief. This miserable little shrimp was cuffed to a chair in front of him, bruised, broken, and bleeding, and yet he had the _audacity_ to sass him! He could kill him at any moment, or worse, drag out the torture for days until Steve begged him for death, any yet he was _still_ mouthing off. What had ever possessed this arrogant little bastard to think that he was allowed to get away with something like that?

Lunging forward, Mr. Barnes slammed his palms down on the arms of the chair, Steve lurching back painfully. “I should cut your tongue out for that.” He snarled, face twisted with cruelty, watching with satisfaction as Steve’s swollen eyelids fluttered, lifting just enough to catch a glint of fear in one eye. The man moved closer, one hand slipping to the blade in his pocket, the other moving forward to seize Steve’s jaw. He wrenched the boy’s face up, his sturdy, bloodstained fingers pressing into Steve’s cheeks to pry his jaw open.

“Hhmm?” He pressed, a prickle of delight running up his spine as a broken little choke escaped the boy’s throat. “Do you have something witty to add, Steven?” Mr. Barnes asked, his tone growing congenial, and open, despite his iron grip on his jaw. “Maybe some clever explanation for why its _just fine_ that you were a squatter in _my_ home, and why you manipulated and exploited _my_ son?”

Steve’s jaw flexed under the man’s grip, his throat tightening as he tried to gasp out a reply. After a moment’s consideration, Mr. Barnes released his jaw, and Steve gasped, his head dropping forward with relief. His jaw ached, and every new strike and blow that Mr. Barnes landed on his body made something different sear with pain. His only blessing was that his arms were finally beginning to go numb, and he was able to ignore the white-hot throbbing in his wrists. At least was _one_ broken, he was certain of it, _both_ were rubbed open with raw, bleeding sores.

Slowly, head still lowered, Steve collected his thoughts. He had no real hope of changing his lot; he was still going to suffer at Mr. Barnes’ hands, he was still going to die, but he couldn't give up without at least trying. “ _Didn’t_ … _manipulate him_ …” He breathed, mouth aching with every movement, blood dribbling from his split lips. “He was- _protecting_ me…”

Mr. Barnes gave a vicious bark of laughter, momentarily drawing back, as he stared at Steve with mounting disbelieve, his mouth curling into an ugly smirk. “ _Protecting you_ -” he spat, the mirth suddenly morphing in hideous, violent anger and the sliver switchblade flashed in the darkness. In a fraction of a second, Mr. Barnes lunged, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s sweaty hair, yanking his head back and pressing the tip of the blade into the swollen, bleeding injury from earlier, splitting the fragile scab and once again staining the blade with Steve’s blood. “And _why_ would he bother _protecting_ an _urchin_ like you?”

Steve, head wrenched back, knife to his throat, slowly cracked his inflamed eyelids. His scalars were blotchy from broken blood vessels, his baby blue irises eerie, and piercing surrounded by scarlet blood. His eyes locked, level, with Mr. Barnes, in the same searing, unnerving stare that had Bucky had grown so accustomed to.

Mr. Barnes’ grip faltered on the blade, the pressure easing as Steve’s gaze bore into his own. A knot of unease twisted in his stomach, the boy’s clear, utterly accusing stare unnerving the mob leader in a way very few things could. Maybe it was his complete helplessness coupled with the fiery determination that burned just behind his clear blue eyes. But more likely, it was the utter conviction in his stare, communicating one thing with total clarity.

_He loves me._

The man drew back, the realization if what Steve’s stare meant, hitting him like a bucket of lead. This arrogant, _dirty_ , impoverished little brat _actually_ believed, with everything in him, that James _loved_ him. His conviction was incomprehensible. How could he be so utterly idiotic as to try and fool himself that his son could _ever_ tie himself to someone like him? How could he _actually think_ that his son would ever want a filthy, scrawny, little urchin with no money, no social standing, and certainly no beauty to brag of? The boy’s arrogance, chaffed Mr. Barnes’ temper. If he had been able to pawn it off on the brat’s foolish stupidity, he could have let the meaning slid. But as much as he refused to admit it, after hearing his son beg, and plead for this little bastard’s safety, after hearing him screaming like a madman and throw his body against the door, Mr. Barnes’ conviction was beginning to waver.

Wrath flaring, Mr. Barnes released his head with a thrust, and whipped the knife back. Steve had less than a second to realize the movement when the blade flash on its arch forward, and buried to the hilt, deep into his body.

-.-

Bucky drop his weight against the door with a muted thump, the door hardly shuddering. He’d lost track of time. How long had he been trapped here, how long since Steve had been taken from him? An hour? Two? All afternoon? His body ached from slamming himself against the heavy oak, again, and again, but Bucky hardly noticed. It was nothing near what would be happening to Steve right now…

_Oh god…he’d done this_ …Steve was involved in this whole mess because of _him_. It had been Bucky at every turn, and now he was going to die, and it wouldn’t be quick. Not only was his father looking to destroy Mr. Rogers, but now, after finding Steve here, he was looking to make _him_ suffer too. Bucky had watched, a passive observer, as his father had mutilated people in the past. By the time he was done with them, they were seldom even recognizable as human. All that was left was a shuddering mass of stripped, bloody flesh, whimpering for mercy before his father finally put a bullet, or his switchblade, through their skull.

In a few hours, a few days, however long his father dragged it out, that would be Steve.

Bucky slumped against the door as a wave of helpless agony crashed over him. He’d given up screaming for the staff. His father must has made it clear that he wasn’t to be released. Even Elisa hadn’t come to his aid when he’d screamed for the young staff woman. He didn’t blame her. She knew what happened to people who disobeyed the head of the house.

Drawing back, Bucky stumbled away from the door, his fists scraped raw, voice ragged from screaming. There had to be another way out.

Within the first few minutes of his captivity, Bucky had thrown back the curtains of the window, searching for a way of escape, but the fourth floor was hardly easy to exit from above. With no distinct ledge, and no nearby roofs, Bucky had abandoned the option, going back to his desperate attempt to force the blocked door open.

After god knows how long with no success, Bucky turned back to the window as his only course of action.

Swallowing back a hard, lump of fear in his throat, Bucky undid the latch, and pulled the windows open. Damp air rushed in as the windows were thrown open, tousling his hair and biting at his cheeks but Bucky knew he had no other choice. It was to go out the window, or be a prisoner in his own home while his father killed the only person he’d ever truly loved. Bucky closed his eyes, the wind stinging his face as he tired to remember the details of the houses exterior. The windows weren’t staggered, that was one little blessing. If he were to use the sheets, the curtain, the fucking bath towels, _whatever he needed_ , he could drop straight down to the window the floor below.

_Detail two:_ If the third floor window was locked, he was fucked.

But it didn’t matter. Steve _needed_ him, and Bucky had never done anything good with his life anyways. If he died trying, he’d at least be able to make a good case for himself before inevitably being sent straight to hell. He would deserve it for doing this to Steve anyways.

Before his nerves could fail him, Bucky reached out, curling his hands around the heavy velvet curtains and wrenching back. The screws holding the fixture to the wall creaked, his sore muscles crying out in protest as the curtain rod suddenly ripped from the wall raining white speckles of drywall down on him. He jerked back, the curtain rod crashing heavily to the ground, dragging the thick fabric with it. Before it had hardly hit the ground, Bucky lurched into action. He yanked one of the two curtains off the rod, hurriedly straightening the fabric out to where he could work with it before tying it, in a series of knots, to the bottom of the second curtain. Now roughly fourteen feet long, Bucky prayed his makeshift rope would be enough to get him to the top of the third story window. The curtain rod was an unexpected asset. It was wider than the window itself by six inches on each end, and as Bucky fed the thick fabric out the window, the curtain rod was pulled against the frame, creating a sturdy anchor. But his time frame, if he had _any_ hope of saving Steve, was narrow, and he couldn’t afford the luxury of nervousness, or doubt.

Steeling his nerves, Bucky grabbed hold of the curtain, and eased carefully out the window.

The cold, wet wind hit him like a battering ram. Bucky gasped in a moment of panic as the wind battered against him, nearly throwing him sideways as he struggled to keep his feet planted against the wall, fists curled in a white-knuckled grip around the thick curtain. There was too much material to clutch tightly. His hands were stretched around the bunch of heavy velvet, aching already, less than two feet down from his window. The biting, wet air battered him relentlessly, and Bucky felt panic rising in his throat.

_Shit_. He was going to loose his grip. He was going to fall. Steve would die under his father's vicious torture, and within an hour, the staff would find _his_ broken corpse crumpled on the flagstone four stories below.

His grip tightened despite the aching in his fingers, his arm muscles trembling from holding up the entirety of his body weight. As the seconds ticked by, Bucky’s probability of success plummeted. If he didn’t start moving now, he would die for sure.

Forcing his frozen fingers to uncurl, Bucky lurched, snatching lower on the curtain as his body plunged several inches. The jolt of movement wrenched the air from his lungs and Bucky gasped aloud, his feet skidding against the polished stone exterior. _Fuck_. He squeezed his eyes closed, the velvet burning his palms as cruelly as barbed wire as he slid lower, guiding himself with his feet. He’d lost track of his progress, his gaze frozen on his aching, burning hands. He could have been two feet from the top of the window, or twenty, and it didn’t even matter, because Bucky didn’t know if he could hold on even a _second_ longer.

The knots he’d put in the material that held the two curtains together were beginning to creak, and groan under his weight. One knot at the end had already unraveled, the second one across was well on its way. All at once, the second and third knot gave, the curtain dropping Bucky by at least a foot. A scream tore from the boy’s throat, his arms cracking with pain as he lost his bracing against the wall, his weight jerking down on his arms. Bucky’s legs flailed helplessly, and he swung like a pendulum from the curtain, held up only by three more knots.

And suddenly his foot came in contact with cold, wet glass.

In the midst of the panic, relief spiked through Bucky’s adrenalin steeped body. _He’d reached the window._ By some _miracle_ , he’d reached the window.

Bucky pressed his foot against the glass, his upper body whipping as he tried to stabilize himself again. His seconds were running out. If the curtain didn’t give out, his arms would. He pushed against the window, feeling it jerk stubbornly against the latch inside. But there was no time to form another plan. It was get through the window or die.

Pushing off the glass, and trusting the knots to hold for a few seconds more, Bucky swung, heels first, against the middle seam of the window.

Something cracked inside.

Feeling the curtain strain above him, Bucky pushed off in the last few seconds he had. His heels hit the divider and the interior latch broke, the window swinging inward with a _crash_. Bucky’s momentum flung him through the open window just as the curtain let go, the heavy velvet hitting the ground four floors below in heavy, coiling heaps.

Bucky lay on his back, mouth frozen open, eyes squeezed shut. His palms were burned raw, arms aching and quivering, numbness beginning to set into the abused muscle. His landing had been less than ideal, and an ugly spasm ran up the length of his spine. He was going to be feeling that for _days_ …

Moaning aloud, Bucky curled to the side, his body aching for even a few minutes to rest, but time was something Bucky lacked. Dragged his battered body up off the ground, Bucky staggered to his feet, head spinning. His crash landing had dropped him into another empty guest room, all but identical to his and Steve’s save for _one_ very important factor: _the door was not blocked._

Forcing his body into a staggering run, Bucky burst through the door, bolting at a dead run down the hall. He crashed past staff members, who started in alarm at the sight of him, everyone wondering who would die for letting him out, but no one bothering to stop him. He flew down flights of stairs, his lungs aching, body crying out for a moments rest but he pushed harder. Coming too late wasn’t an option.

Bucky stumbled to a lurching halt in the living room, his gaze locking on his mother by the mantle, eye wild, chest heaving. _“Mom!”_ He gasped raggedly, seizing her arms and dragging her close, trembling with desperation and exertion. “Dad- he had a boy with him, a-a- a seventeen year old boy- where did he take him?”

Mrs. Barnes startled in alarm. Her son looked all but _mad_. His normally neat, carefully styled hair was tousled, and windblown. His bare chest was heaving in raw, ragged gulps of air, cheeks flushed, body trembling. His eyes were wet.

She blinked in alarm, drawing back despite his grip on her arms. “James-” she started but Bucky’s grip tightened, his expression twisting with anguish.

_“Where’d he take him!_ ” He cried, voice breaking in helpless terror.

“I- I didn’t see him,” his mother stammered, shocked by her son’s mood. “But I think I heard the basement door open some time ago-”

Bucky’s faces washed ashen with horror, a cold sweat breaking out across his body and he suddenly released his startled mother’s arms, tearing from the room. He bolted down the hall, forgetting his aching body all but entirely. His mind spun visceral images, all of which he knew couldn’t even _scrape_ the horror of reality if Steve was where his mother seemed to think he was. Wrenching open the basement door, Bucky bolted down the steps, and staggered to a stop, his stomach turning with a wave of nauseous terror.

_Steve_.

Steve was cuffed to the heavy oak chair, his arms stretched behind him, blood dripping, thick, and scarlet from his wrists as the sterling cuffs bit into his soft flesh. His ankles were bound to the legs of the chair, ropes rubbing his skin raw. His head hung low against his collar, utterly still, the steel of his father’s iconic switch blade buried in his chest.

“ _No_ -” Bucky whispered, his vision blurring with tears as he stumbled forward, dropping heavily to his knees in front of the limp body of the boy he loved. He reached up, hands trembling, nausea crashing over him in sickening waves as he unsteadily cupped Steve’s bloody face in his palms. “No- no- no-no, Steve, _Steve_ \- no, you can’t- y- _you can’t_ \- _please_ Steve-” he choked, his thumbs rubbing across his swollen, inflamed cheekbones, smearing the blood that trickled from a gash above his eyebrow. “ _Please_ -” Bucky gasped brokenly, his eyes burning from the tears that spilled down his wind-chapped cheeks. “Don’t be dead- just- just hang in there, I’m gonna fix this…I’m gonna- I- I’m- I- _I can’t_ …I can’t… _oh god, Steve…no_ …”

The heat hadn’t yet left Steve’s body. He was still warm under Bucky’s touch. It was cruel, _sadistic_ , that he’d come only moments too late, that only moments ago, the boy he loved more than anything else in his entire, dark, and bloody world, had died; terrified, in pain, and _utterly_ alone.

A ragged sob wrenched from Bucky’s throat. A spasm of grief so violent it made his body lurch tore through him, and Bucky doubled forward, still clinging to Steve’s bloody face as huge sobs crashed over him in agonizing waves. His chest ached, the ragged gasps and choking cries making his head throb and his throat burn, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. _Steve had been through so much worse._

Choking back a sob that threatened to strip his throat raw, Bucky swallowed, his entire body shuddering with sickened agony and grief. “I’m _sorry_ -” he gasped, the image of Steve’s lifeless body blurring as fresh tears spilled down over his cheeks, dripping from his chin, and trickling down his neck. “God- _god_ \- I’m _so_ sorry- _Steve_ -” Bucky choked. Leaning forward, Bucky cradled Steve's face close, supporting his limp head as he touched his soft mouth to his dead lover’s split, and bleeding lips. Bucky could taste the metallic tang of Steve’s blood in his mouth, sharp, and bitter, twisting his stomach in knots of guilt and grief, and he sobbed into the parting kiss...his _last_ kiss... the last kiss he'd ever have with Steve... _He couldn’t do this._ He couldn’t try and move on with life as normal, not knowing what his father -what _he_ \- had done to Steve. He couldn’t just resume his charmed life, couldn’t go back to drinking, flirting, and fucking around just to feel _something_ …not when Steve was dead…not when it was his fault.

_It was too much._

Bucky’s soft, unblemished mouth slid from Steve’s, slow, and tender, as though his gentle touch would be enough to bring him back; enough to make up for all the pain, and brutality he’d suffered in his last hours. He stayed pressed closed, his forehead resting against Steve’s, trembling with anguish. At this point, he didn’t care if his father found him here. Killing Steve was the cruelest thing he could have possibly done. Anything else he would do to punish him now was irrelevant.

Bucky lost track of time as he sat there, forehead against Steve's, tears spilling down his cheeks as sorrow strangled out all hope, and will to live. His legs had gone numb, knees bruised from kneeling on the concrete floor, but he hadn’t moved. He was frozen, so lost, so utterly _drowned_ in grief that he hardly register the soft, barely perceptible puff of air against his lips.

Suddenly Bucky’s eyes flashed open, a hope almost more agonizing than the heartbreak searing through his chest like a white-hot shaft. He _hated_ himself for believing, even for a second, that there was _some kind_ of hope, but the tiny little whisper of air had suddenly thrown Bucky, headlong in to one last desperate attempt.

His hand flashed up, fingers sliding along the underside of Steve’s jaw, feeling desperately for a pulse. Never once in his life had Bucky needed to check if someone was alive. In his experience, if they were dead, that’s how they were supposed to be, but not any more. Bucky fumbled along his jaw for his pulse point, feeling desperately, hands shaking when suddenly he felt a flutter under his fingertips.

“Steve!” He gasped aloud, his head snapping up as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks, relief crashing through his body in intoxicating waves. “Oh god- _Steve_ \- Steve- wake up! Come on baby doll, come on sweetheart, wake up- _god_ \- Steve you’ve gotta-” Bucky choked back the babbling stream of words, suddenly stooping to desperately yank the ropes around his ankles free. “ _God_ -” he choked breathlessly, his body trembling, his head spinning with relief, and a sudden, new desperation.

Bucky’s head snapped up, gazing up into his lover’s battered face. Steve’s eyes were swollen completely shut, but his lips twitched slightly, parting as his chest shuddering in and out in tiny, inadequate breaths. Bucky couldn’t hope that Steve would hear his voice and wake up, he couldn’t expect that of him. Although Bucky _ached_ to hear Steve’s voice, he knew that the only thing he should be focusing on was getting him out.

As Bucky finished with the ropes around his ankles, the older boy rose to his knees. Focused now, he brushed a feather light touch along the handle of the blade, seeing exactly where his father’s mark had hit. The switch blade was buried to the hilt below Steve’s left collar bone; far enough to the left to miss his heart, but too close to his lung for comfort. Steve was lucky to be alive, but he wouldn’t stay that way if Bucky couldn’t get him to a hospital.

“Hang in there…” Bucky whispered feverishly, continuing to speak on the off chance that Steve was semi-conscious, but just couldn’t respond to him. He had to know he was here. He had to know he was going to take care of him. Bucky scrambled to his feet, circling around the back of the heavy, oak chair and dropping back to his knees.

_Shit._

The cuffs had cut deep, ugly rings into Steve’s wrists, blood dripping from the sterling metal. They had been cinched far too tight, and Steve had obviously been wrenched against them, lurching under his father’s blows. His right wrist was badly swollen. _Broken_. Bucky swallowed, realizing with a sick plunge that without the key to the cuffs, getting Steve to safety suddenly became nearly impossible. The chair was bolted to the floor. It was too heavy, and sturdy to be broken, and the chain of the cuffs was looped through the back of the chair. Without the key, Bucky couldn’t budge Steve an inch. His father would have the key, and the thought lead him to a question he’d been to distracted to wonder before.

_Where was his father?_

The basement wasn’t just the single room. It spanned as wide and long as the rest of the mansions, divided into rooms that stretched out further and further; deeper, _darker_ , like an underground wear house. His father could be _anywhere_ , and Bucky was conflicted as to weather or not he wanted him to appear. On one hand, he had the key that would save Steve. On the other, he’d never relinquish it, and Steve would die. Even Steve wasn’t strong enough to hold up to this forever.

“I’m gonna get you out of here…” Bucky murmured, wanting to stroke Steve’s battered body, submerged him in tender affection, but he knew even his light, loving touch would only hurt him. “Okay, Stevie? I’m gonna figure out how to get you out of here, just hang on for me, just listen to me, and _don’t you dare_ let go. Just- just hang on…just _don't die_ …”

Bucky heard the footsteps before his saw his father emerge from the darkness.

He lurched to his feet, adrenalin dumping into his bloodstream as he scrambled up, instinctively placing himself between the approaching footfalls, and Steve. His fingers gripped, white-knuckled into the arm of the chair, the shift drawing a broken little sound from the shuddering blond. Bucky grimaced, realizing that even the tiniest movement must be agony for his Steve. His grip tightened on the chair, the footsteps clicking across the cement floor, closer, and closer out of the darkness. There was no sense in avoiding it. Bucky’s father was coming for them, and Bucky was going to have to face him one way or another.

“Dad,” he called, the footfalls dropping for just a hesitant moment before Mr. Barnes stepped into the yellow light of the single, naked bulb.

His hands were crusted with Steve’s blood, face flecked with droplets of scarlet. The dark dress shirt he wore was shoved up to the elbows, his tie undone around his neck. There was a cruel, darkness in his eyes that sent a chill up his spine, drying up the words in his throat, and turning his blood to ice. In all Bucky’s life he’d never thought to be afraid of his father. _It was just work. It was just a little blood. He loved him_. But now, seeing him like this, the full horror of what his father had inflicted on an innocent boy crashed over him, and Bucky felt -for the first time- _fear_ as his father approached him.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d handle you _later_?” He snarled, the way his son braced himself between him, and the boy chaffing his temper. He’d hate nothing more than for that brat to be right.

Bucky swallowed, tipping up his chin as he kept the barrier between his father and Steve. There was no point in mincing words. “Give me the key,” he said softly, meeting his father’s black gaze. _“I’m taking him.”_

Mr. Barnes felt thrill of temper, but for the sake of Bucky kept it under control. He’d never hurt his son before, he’d always _hoped_ he’d never have to, but _this_ \- this was testing his resolve. He bit back the urge to hit Bucky for _daring_ to disobey him, for _daring_ to put this pathetic little urchin above _him_. “James,” he said tightly, the rage thrumming in his vocal cords as he barely restrained his violence. “Step away _now_ , and don’t create trouble.”

Bucky’s head jerked in a vicious shake, his fingers digging into the wooden arms of the chair. “No-” he said shortly, swallowing back the fear as he father drew closer. “No, I’m not gonna let you hurt him anymore. I’m taking him, give me the key.” He blurted rapidly, the desperation of his words pitching as his father pulled to a stop directly in front of him. His head was tilted to the side, lips curled in an ugly sneer.

“Don’t be an idiot.” He snapped, suddenly grabbing Bucky’s arm in an iron grip. The boy startled, jerking in alarm as he tried to wrench away from him, but Mr. Barnes’ grip was solid. His fingers tightened into his skin, bruising him as he physically dragged Bucky to the side, the boy digging in his heels and stumbling after him. “This boy’s _nothing_. You’re really going to pick a fight with _me_ , over _him?”_ He spat, his hand suddenly flashing out as he grabbed Bucky’s jaw, wrenching his gaze back to the shuddering figure in the chair.

A short cry tore from Bucky’s lips, the rough jerk sending a spasm of pain down his neck. “ _Look at him_ -” the man snarled, his breath hot on his ear. “He’s _dirty_ , and poor. He _has_ nothing - _is_ nothing- and he’s going to be dead soon anyways. Don’t make me your enemy just because you have a _crush_.”

Bucky tried to shake his head, but his father’s fingers bit deep into his jaw, holding his head facing Steve. “I love him-” he choked shortly, and his gaze was instantly torn away, his father dragging him back around to face him, grip tightening painfully.

“ _No. You don’t_.” He hissed, “You’re _ignorant_. You have a _fetish_. You _don’t love him._ ”

“You’re wrong-”

Mr. Barnes released Bucky’s jaw, his hand whipping back and cracking sharply across his face.

Bucky staggered back, reeling as his father struck him for the first time in his life. The blow left his ears ringing, head spinning from the sheer force, but despite the sudden, throbbing pain, it had still been only a warning blow. His father could do much worse.

Before Bucky had hardly gotten his feet underneath him, he felt his father’s hand curl into the front of his shirt, dragging him close as his finger’s dragged roughly through his hair. “ _Listen to me, James._ ” He breathed in a low tone. “You’re _young_ , you make mistakes, but this _boy_ \- he’s only using you. He’s manipulated you to save his own skin, _just like his father._ They _lied_ to you, James. They _used_ you, and _I_ can make them pay for that, but not if you insist on playing into their hand.” He pulled his son close, his touch easing as his temper cooled. Mr. Barnes stroked through his son’s hair, the boy still clearly shaken from the blow.

“He doesn’t want you Bucky…” He murmured, reverting to the boy’s nickname as he brushed his large, bloodstained hand over his son’s bruising cheek. “Let me take care of it…” He breathed. “Let me make this problem disappear for you…”

Bucky suddenly startled, jerking away from his gentle touch. “No- _stop it_ -” he blurted, the shock of being hit by his father suddenly flushing from his bloodstream, his mind acutely aware, the man’s words turning his stomach. “Don’t lay _one_ fucking finger on him, I swear to god I’ll-”

In a split second, Mr. Barnes’ calm splinter back into full blow fury. “Do you think this is a game?” He snapped, moving towards his again, but Bucky countered his advances. “Rogers lied to me, and I _will_ make him pay-”

“ _I lied to you!_ ” Bucky broke out, once again braced against the arms of the chair, separating Steve from his father’s wrath. The man dragged to a startled stop, and Bucky leaped on the opportunity, pressing forward aggressively. “It was _me_ \- okay? _I_ lied to you, _I_ made up the story about the Irish contacts, _not Mr. Rogers_. He didn’t have _any_ part in that, it was _all_ me!”

Mr. Barnes scowled, his head giving a frustrated jerk of confusion. _“What?”_ He demanded, and Bucky tipped up his chin, hands clenched at his sides.

“Mr. Rogers didn’t have the option to stop selling, they would have starved, they _still_ might. I lied to you about the contacts so that you’d leave them alone, leave _Steve_ alone, even for a little while. Mr. Rogers has stopped selling now anyways. He has _no income_ , they’re gonna loose their home, and they're gonna _starve_ , but _that’s_ what he did to keep his family safe from _you_. And _now_ look what you’ve done.” He spat, his voice breaking as he watched his father’s gaze suddenly lock on Steve’s limp, bloody figure.

“ _You_ did this. _You_ did this to an innocent boy for _nothing_. For absolutely _nothing_. Their son could _die_ -” he choked, eyes burning, jaw aching from clenching his teeth. “And it all because of _you_. You _owe_ them.”

Mr. Barnes tore his gaze from the boy in the chair, just barely clinging to life, suddenly deeply unsettled by his son’s accusing rage. And for just a brief moment, something gave inside him. For just a second, a little of the mob leader’s steeliness cracked, allowing guilt to seep through the fissure before it suddenly froze over. Mr. Barnes' sneer darkened, a scoff tearing from his lips. “I _owe_ them.” He repeated mockingly, his lip curling with disgust. “Are they going to _enforce_ it?” He spat, “are they going to _make_ me leave them alone?”

Bucky’s face contorted with rage, jaw set, eyes livid with a kind of dark cruelty that he hadn’t even known he possessed. _“I will_.” He snarled, stalking forward, his father actually giving ground. “I _know_ your operation, I _know_ your contacts, and dirty secrets. I know everyone you hurt, and killed, and I _will_ find a way to dismantle your _entire_ fucking empire if you _ever_ touch the Rogers again. It may take time, but there’s some evidence that even _you_ can’t bury. And I’m gonna find it. And I’m gonna _ruin_ you.”

Mr. Barnes stared at his son, a look of shocked horror twisting his features. _Who was this boy?_ Because he was _nothing_ like his son. His son was spoiled and selfish, his son watched with apathetic boredom as he tortured and killed the people who stood in his way. He shrugged off violence and gorged himself on the pleasures that came with being a member of the Barnes family. He could have _anything_ he wanted. He could live his entire life in luxury and comfort, and he was throwing it away for some _boy_.

But more shocking still was the realization that Bucky could do _exactly_ what he’d threatened.

Mr. Barnes had never feared an empirical collapse. No one knew enough, no one had the power to do any _real_ damage. He could destroy the evidence, or destroy them without so much as a second thought. He’d never imagined a complete and total _sabotage_ of his life’s work from the _inside_.

_He would have to kill Bucky._

If he decided to dismember his empire he _would_ succeed unless Mr. Barnes killed him. It would be the _only_ way to salvage his operation, his money, his freedom to do as he pleased. But could he do it? Mr. Barnes’ stomach twisted uneasily. Would he kill his own son? And over _what?_ a handful of dollars? The few pennies he would leach from people if they couldn’t go to the Roger’s for their drugs? A job left unfinished?

Mr. Barnes felt his jaw lock, his anger simmering just below the surface of his blood stained skin. Reaching into the left breast pocket of his shirt, the man withdrew the small, silver key, hurling it against Bucky’s chest with a flick of his wrist. “ _Fine_.” He spat, caving, not for fear of Bucky’s threat, but for being unable to face killing his child to preserve his empire.

Bucky startled, the persona of brutality cracking as he caught the key against his chest, stepping back a pace and clutching the little scrap of metal, afraid his father would change his mind, and try to wrench it from him. But before he could turn, Mr. Barnes’ hand flashed out, grabbing his bruised arm and dragging him close, his teeth bared, breath hot on his face.

“Take your precious _boyfriend_ and know that if you _ever_ step foot inside my house again, I _will_ kill you.”

Bucky met his father’s gaze, and for just a moment, all that passed between them was raw _hurt_. Mr. Barnes, aching with misdirected betrayal; Bucky, seeing the man he’d adored his entire life as a monster. With a jerk, the man released his son’s arm, turning sharply away from him. Bucky stumbled back unsteadily, whipping around and dropping to his knees behind the heavy oak chair, only vaguely aware of his father’s footfalls on the creaking stairs.

“ _James_.”

His father’s commanding tone startled Bucky, the young man jerking straight as his eyes snapped to the top of the stairs. His father stood by the upstairs door, expression twisted with bitterness, but his tone betrayed just a _suggestion_ of regret.

“Say good bye to your mother before you leave.”

Bucky held his father’s stare, realizing with an aching mixture of pain, sorrow and anger that it was probably the last time he’d _ever_ see him. The last time he would ever lay eyes on, or even _speak to_ his father, and he couldn’t think of even a _single_ word in reply.

Swallowing, Bucky jerked a tight nod, before dropping his head, and crouching, frozen, until the door had closed, and his father’s footsteps faded down the hall.

When the last traces of his father had passed beyond his hearing, Bucky dragged in a steadying breath. He swallowed as he gently guided Steve’s wrists up into the light. With shaking hands, Bucky fitted the tiny, silver key into the lock tenderly pulling the metal away from the bloody pulp of the boy’s wrists. Lowering them carefully, Bucky moved to the front of the chair, exhaling a sharp gasp of relief as he saw Steve’s chest still rising and falling in shallow breaths. His lips moved slightly, swollen eyelids fluttering as a low groan escaped his throat.

Bucky choked out a shaky gasp, reaching up to tenderly take Steve’s face in his palms, supporting his head, gently soothing over his bruised cheeks.

“Hey sugar…” He whispered softly, his chest giving a tight little flutter as Steve reacted, the corners of his split lips twitching up in a painful smile.

“Hey asshole…” He rasped, voice barely audible, the aching smile slipping from his face in a stifled moan of pain. Suddenly the waves of agony and fear washed over his expression, and his head twitched to the side, jerking spasmodically. “I-I cant- see you…” He choked, his voice breaking in helpless terror, as he lifted his throbbing head, a high whine slipping from his bloody lips.

“Shhh-” Bucky hushed him abruptly, chest tightening with pity, eyes suddenly stinging with tears. “Hey, don’t talk, it’s okay… _it’s okay,_ " He assured him, cradling his face softly. "Your eyelids are just swollen shut…don’t try an’ open them, just breath…just breath for me, baby doll, I’m gonna help you, I’m gonna get you outta here.” He whispered raggedly, his hands sliding from Steve's face despite how much he wanted to cradle him close and comfort him until the pain faded from his body. But Steve needed medical attention more than he needed his comfort. Carefully sliding one arm beneath Steve’s legs, the other slipping around his back, Bucky eased Steve forward. Moving him was going to be _agony_ , but leaving him sit was a death sentence.

“ _Bu-cky_ ….” He choked, his words slurring, his brief moment of consciousness already slipping away from him. “Wanna…go home… _please_ …”

But Bucky was already shaking his head, choking back a half sob. _“I’m sorry Steve,_ ” he whispered, lifting Steve from the chair in one, swift movement. Steve's piercing scream twisted his gut with nauseous guilt, echoing around the basement as tears spilled down Bucky's cheeks. “Can’t go home…" He breathed, cradling Steve's broken body close. "Can't go home Stevie... _not yet_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry!!! Its all gonna be worth it I swear, don't burn me at the stake. You all knew this couldn't be pretty. Leave a comment, seriously, its the best motivator in the world. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Bucky never said goodbye to his mother. He couldn’t. He didn’t have a _second_ to spare, not when Steve was barely clinging to life in his arms.

He stumbled up the stairs, Steve gasping in choked off wails of agony at every misplaced step. For his sake, Bucky tried to move as carefully as possible, but it was speed that would save Steve’s life now. He had to get him to a hospital. If he got him to a hospital he still might live. As Bucky carried Steve, he didn’t bother to spare even a _glance_ at the home he’d known his whole life, the home he’d never see again. But he didn't care. It was a small price to pay for Steve’s life.

-.-

Bucky reached back blindly, his eyes fixed on the road as he fumbled for Steve’s left hand. The boy lay across the back seat of his car, his chest shuddering in shallow breaths, bleeding out across the custom leather seats. His wrist was raw, dripping blood, but Bucky gently curled his hand around his fingers, trying to comfort Steve, give him something solid to cling to.

“Stevie?” He called softly, his voice cracking as he blinked back the tears that threatened to blur his vision. “You awake back there, Stevie?”

_Silence_

“Okay-” he choked shortly, fingers tightening on the wheel. “That’s okay, y'don’t have to talk to me, it’s alright- just- just hang on, okay? Hang on, just keep listening to me sweetheart, don’t go to sleep.” He begged, terrified that if Steve let his exhaustion and pain overtake him, he would sleep, and never wake up. Bucky gave Steve’s bloody fingers a gentle squeeze, comforting himself only in the sound of his lover's breathing, and in the warmth that still ran through his fingertips. So long as he kept breathing, everything would be okay. Setting his jaw, Bucky wrenched the wheel, careening around a tight corner. He didn’t have time to pay any mind to traffic rules, seconds could be all it took for Steve to slip away from him, so he needed all the seconds he could get.

In the back seat, Steve suddenly lurched, blood spurting from his lips as a deep, throaty cough tore from his broken body, a gasping cry following on it's heels. Adrenalin dumped into Bucky's system, his hand tightening unconsciously on his fingers as a cold sweat broke out across his neck and forehead. "Steve!" He cried urgently, the boy's body arching up off that back seat in another vicious cough. If Steve had as many broken bones as Bucky imagined, coughing like that could kill him. "Breath-" he choked, biting back his own panic. "Just breath, try not to cough, Steve. Stevie?" He rasped, feeling a spasmodic shudder tear through Steve's body. _Oh god.._.he was loosing him.

The city’s closest hospital loomed up above him, and Bucky wrenched the wheel, hitting the brakes as he skidded in against the curb, leaving black streaks of burnt rubber across the pavement. Before the car had hardly stopped, Bucky threw open the door, stumbling shakily around to the back door and yanking it open. Steve lay across the back seat, blood staining the leather around him. He was pale as death, blood turning the skin around his mouth scarlet. Dry, crusted blood from hours ago. Fresh, thick, wet blood that dripped in heavy streaks down his jaw from the corners of his mouth, running into his hairline. He looked all but dead. But his chest rose and fell stubbornly in shallow breaths, his heart beating weakly under the crushed shell of his ribs.

Bucky swallowed, hating to move him, but knowing he had no other choice. He'd come through too much already, and Bucky hadn't brought him this far to let him bleed out in his car. He bent across the back seat, expression twisted with agony, murmuring words of comfort to Steve as he slid his arms underneath him. “Not much longer now baby…” He whisper, easing him closer, leaving a scarlet streak behind on the leather seats. “Not much longer…gonna pick you up now, hang in there, I know it hurts- I- I know it hurts, _I’m sorry_ -” Bucky choked back the guilt that rose in bitter knots in his throat, and lifted Steve from the car.

A weak, broken groan slipped from Steve’s lips, but no more. He was too far gone to scream, too exhausted, too near death. The white hot agony that burned through every inch of his body was dulling, a relief in the midst of the chronic pain. His mind was growing too dim to realize that as the pain seeped away, it was slowly dragging his life out with it. All he could think was that...it _almost_ felt like it was getting better. It didn't hurt so bad anymore...Bucky was gonna be so happy... _so relieved_...But he couldn't make his lips move. They had gone numb too...He'd just have to tell him later, tell him later that the pain was leaving...he felt _so much better_ now...But wouldn’t it still be nice to just go to sleep? Bucky would want him to rest...he would just sleep for a minute… _just a minute_ …

Bucky burst through the doors of the emergency room, gaze snapped wildly around the room, stumbling as he felt Steve’s body go disturbingly relaxed in his arms. _“HELP ME!_ ” He screamed, his voice breaking raggedly, stomach plunging with sickened terror as Steve went completely limp. “Help me, _please!_ Please- he’s dying- he’s- _please! Please-_ he needs a doctor!”

The nurse behind the desk pressed a button on the intercom, speaking sharply into in, and in a moment, the room was swarmed with hospital staff. Bucky found himself suddenly crowded, doctor’s grabbing his elbows, guiding him to a gurney that had been dragged in, asking questions.

"Please-" He broke out desperately, their words ricocheting around in his head, loud, and senseless as a doctor pulled his arms down to ease Steve onto the gurney. "Please, please just help him- _just help him please-_ He's- I- I love him- _please_ \- he's dying-" A wide, steady hand pressed against his chest, Bucky, too distracted to focus on who's it was. All he knew was he was suddenly being guided back, that he was no longer holding Steve's tiny figure against his chest.

And then he was gone.

The doctors pushed the gurney from the room, Steve disappearing through a set of swinging double doors, a man on either side. He stumbled back, suddenly sick, his head spinning, stomach clenching, and rolling. He would be lucky if he didn’t vomit all over the hospital floor.

Steve’s blood soak his shirt. His muscles quivered, and ached, and he could feel his cheek beginning to bruise from his father’s blow. Bucky stood unsteadily in the middle of the emergency room floor, eyes frozen wide, trembling, and sick to his stomach as he stared at the door through which Steve had been taken. And he wondered if he would ever seen him alive again. He’d been wrenched from him with haste, and although Bucky knew speed would be necessary to save him, a part of him wished he’d had _even a moment_ to say goodbye. If Steve died before the doctors could do anything for him, Bucky’s last memory of him would be having him yanked from his arms, as surly as Steve had been  yanked from his life _…he had to live through this_ …he _had_ to. Bucky would never be able to move on from it, never be able to forgive himself if he didn’t. 

It wasn’t until Bucky was sitting that he realized a nurse had moved to his side, guiding him down into a chair and plying him with questions. He blinked sluggishly, turning to look at her with a blind stare. He had no idea what she'd been saying to him. Her words fell on his ears, hollow, and empty, because only _one_ thing really mattered anymore, didn't it? “They’re gonna save him.” He said softly, the nurse blinking as her hand stilled on the paperwork in her lap. “They’re gonna save him, _right?”_ Bucky pressed, clarity slowly dawning into his gaze.

The nurse hesitated, before suddenly straightening, laying the clipboard and paperwork across Bucky’s thighs. “Our staff here is highly trained." She assured him in a hushed tone. "I’m sure he’ll receive the _best_ of care.”

Bucky stared numbly. The evasive answer stirred a deep, helpless terror inside him and his fear churned up aggression, and anger, but he swallowed it back. It wasn't her fault. She probably wasn't supposed to deal out iron-clad guarantees to people who'd dragged in boys who'd been beaten nearly to death. She couldn't promise him that Steve would survive, but her words _did_ stir a realization somewhere inside him. His head snapped up, suddenly meeting her gaze, having shaken the look of disconnected terror. _“I’m paying for this._ ” He said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument of any sort. “Don’t let anyone else even _offer_ , _I’ll_ pay for everything in full. I don't care what it cost.” The last thing Bucky wanted was for the Rogers to be settled with the cost of Steve’s medical care. He may have fail to keep them safe as a family, he may have fail to keep _Steve_ safe, but this was one thing he _could_ do. 

-.-

The wait was _agony_.

Bucky sat exactly where the nurse had left him for hours, filling out the paperwork that had been left for him. He answered all the questions he could about Steve, he filled out forms to ensure that he would be the only one billed for Steve’s care. When prompted for an explanation of what had happened, Bucky opted for a condensed version of the true. _Mob activity_. It was an answer everyone could accept. Everyone in Brooklyn, hell, everyone in the entire state of New York, knew what kind of ugly dealing happened here with the mob. The fact that a seventeen year old boy had been beaten, stabbed, and dragged into the emergency room by a teenager drenched in his blood was not too far-fetched for anyone. It also had the added benefit of people not prying too much into the details. The less they knew, the safer they were.

Once the paper work was finished, and the exhausting flood of questions ebbed, Bucky sat, staring, glassy eyed, at the opposite wall, playing over the day’s events in his head. What time was it? What _day_ was it even? Over the past few days, he’d lost track. After spending all his time in one room with Steve, the curtains drawn, one day had melted into another.

 _Sunday, their date;_ that was the last day he had consciously kept track of. At the thought, Bucky's tortured soul allowed him a small measure of happiness, a tiny smile lifting his lips at the thought. They’d teased, and flirted, had breakfast in bed, and made love, sweet, and slow in the huge whirlpool tub until they were both utterly spent. He’d told Steve he loved him, and he’d meant every word. If their entire lives had been able to be like that, Bucky would have never been unhappy. If he was optimistic, he could still imagine some vague, far off future where they were safe, and happy together. He could imagine an idealistic life where Bucky had nothing to do with his family's empire, and Steve and his parents lived in comfort with no worries about bills or rent. But that wasn't the present, that wasn't _now_.

Bucky closed his eyes, his head aching as he tried to piece together the blurred days of his life since meeting Steve. What had happened after their date? They’d been in the room for another three days- _no_ \- four- Bucky thought. That made it Wednesday, or maybe Thursday. It was evening.

Bucky’s stomach clenched sickly. It had been late morning when his father had discovered them and wrenched Steve away from him. Steve had been at the mercy of his father’s brutality for what? Six hours? _Seven?_ The thought made him nauseous. He should have found a way out earlier. He shouldn’t have been so afraid to try the window. _He could have saved Steve so much pain…_ The young man’s head dropped back, hitting against the wall with a muted thump. He was exhausted, _spent_. His body ached from throwing himself against the heavy oak door, from landing flat on his spine after crashing through a window, from carrying Steve’s battered body in sore and aching arms. His body cried out for rest, but his mind kept spinning the horrible possibility that Steve would die in a serialized hospital room, and he wouldn’t be able to be with him.

_And god did he want to be with him…_

The doctors needed room to work, they couldn’t be bothered with having Bucky around. But Steve was scared, and in pain; he was dying, and Bucky _needed_ to be with him. But that option wasn’t open to him, so Bucky rested his head back against the wall, and allowed a thin stream of exhausted, grief-stricken tears to slip down his cheek.

-.-

Bucky’s weary body finally won out over his tormented mind, and he tucked himself into the chair, head pillowed in his arms as he allowed himself a few brief minutes of sleep. All the same, it didn’t last. Discomfort, and nightmares kept waking him, until attempting any more rest was worthless. He wandered the lower floor of the hospital, buying a bag of nuts from the vending machine, and throwing them away after a few bites twisted his stomach into painful knots.

He turned Steve’s dated cellphone around in his hands.

Steve parents should be contacted. They _deserved_ that much. Besides, Steve missed them. He worried about them constantly, and having them near would help him recover. Besides, He was sure that they were worried sick about him. He'd been missing for over half a week with no word. Bucky hated that this had to be the way they were reconnected. He wanted to be able to leave Steve off at his house, whole, and uninjured after this entire mess blew over, but that wasn't their lot. Steve's parents would have to be reunited with there son _here_ , in a hospital. They would have to see him in the state Bucky's father had left him in and wonder what kind of monster had let this happen to their child...Yes...The Rogers would be called, but a selfish part of Bucky needed to see Steve first.

It was wrong to be so entitled and he knew it, but Bucky had to see with his own eyes that Steve was alive, and stable. Besides, who knew how long it would be before Steve woke?  It could be hours. He may need to be induced into a coma... _days_...Bucky didn’t think he could handle the guilt of being in the same waiting room with Steve’s parents, not when their baby boy was on the verge of death because of him.

No, the Rogers could be contacted _after_ Steve woke. While they were on their way, Bucky could speak to Steve, and then slip out to give the family time together. _God knows_ they needed it. The last Mr. and Mrs. Rogers had heard from their son was the night of the storm. He hadn’t been able to tell them anything, except to lie about his safety. Now, four days later, they would receive a call from the hospital, and they would know the extent of Steve’s lie.

Bucky paced, exhausted, guilt-ridden, and worn down. He felt like his sanity was hanging on by one frayed thread, clinging only to the hope that Steve was still alive. It had been hours. How many, Bucky wasn’t sure. It was probably close to midnight by now. Bucky's eyes itched and burned, his body ached from the trauma he'd inflicted on it, stiffer still from curling up in the uncomfortable waiting room chair. He so badly wanted to rest, but what he wanted was nothing compared to his _need_ to see Steve.

A doctor strode into the room, and the dark hair boy startled, jerking upright as he always did whenever someone entered the waiting room. Usually they were only passing through, stepping into adjoining rooms, speaking to the family members of other patients, but not this time. The doctor met Bucky’s gaze directly, crossing the room and stopping in front of him, clipboard in hand.

“Mr. Barnes?” She asked, the name unsettling Bucky. Mr. Barnes made him feel too much like his father. But that hardly mattered now.

He rose to his feet, mouth suddenly dry. “Yes?” He whispered, blinking rapidly, all the fear he’d been trying to process over the past several hours crashing over him in sicken waves. “- _Steve_ -” he said raggedly, stepping forward, his voice desperate. “Is he okay? _Is he alive?”_

The doctor lifted her gaze from the clipboard, her stare implying that she would _not_ tolerate panic. But she wasn’t a hard woman, and the corners of her mouth lifted in a faintly reassuring smile. “He _is_ alive.” She said evenly, continuing even as Bucky went weak kneed with relief, sinking into the chair behind him. “We’ve gotten him stabilized, but he still in pretty bad shape.”

Bucky nodded numbly, almost too relieve to think about what they were still facing. _Steve was alive_. In his book, that was all that mattered. “ _How_ bad,” he asked breathlessly, suddenly shifting feverishly in his seat, itching to see him.

“His injuries are significant. He has three broken ribs, broken right wrist _and_ right collar bone, dislocated shoulders, -right and left- and a knife wound five inches deep below his left collar. His wrists have been rubbed completely open, and there’s significant chaffing on his ankles as well. That’s not even covering all the minor injuries. We’re going to have a lot to keep an eye on in the next few days.”

“But he’s alive…” Bucky whispered, stuck on the sheer elation of knowing he hadn’t lost him. The doctor said they had him stable. He was going to be giving the best treatment available…Steve was gonna live…Bucky closed his eyes, breathing out long, and slow for just a moment before his gaze suddenly flashed up, eyes locking on the doctor. _“Can I-”_ he blurted, but the woman was already nodding.

“He is awake for right now. We’re going to give him something to help him rest in a little bit, but _yes_ , you may see him.”

Bucky swallowed stiffly, nodding a tight thanks. The doctor lead him out of the waiting room, and on the way past the reception desk, Bucky paused, even though every second away from Steve was _torture_. Flipping through Steve’s contacts on his phone, Bucky passed the number, and a brief message on to the receptionist. The Rogers had to know Steve was here, Bucky just didn’t necessarily want them know that _he_ was here.

Knowing his minutes with Steve were now numbered, Bucky hurriedly pursued the doctor, weaving through hallways and up elevators until they came to the door of Steve’s room. Casting one last glance at the doctor who had accompanied him, Bucky pushed open the hospital door, slipping through, and around the corner to face Steve’s bed.

The sight of him _still_ felt like a punch to the heart.

Even conscious, and bandaged, with the crusted blood cleaned from his skin, Steve still looked like he’d been through hell. His bruises were beginning to change from purple, to mottled green and yellow, his cheeks swollen, eyes still forced closed. The doctors could do little about the swelling, but at least the blade has been removed from Steve’s chest. He was shirtless, his upper body heavily bandaged, and Bucky knew, beneath the gauze wrapping, that he must have had some pretty serious stitches to start the knife wound on its way to healing.

He was still pale as death, but the doctors must have given him something for the pain, because he seemed…almost relaxed. His mouth was no longer set in a grimace of pain, or dropped open in a silent scream of agony. His swollen, split lips rested together and he took shallow, but purposeful breaths through his nose.

“Stevie…” He called softly, not certain if he was really as conscious as the doctor seemed to think. But the minute Steve processed Bucky’s voice, he twitched, his head shifting with a pained groan

“Bucky?” He whispered thickly, his swollen eyelids twitching. Steve didn’t trust his senses just in that moment. His ears were ringing. His head was still throbbing, although less so now that the nurses had put something funny in his bloodstream. It had forced his wound, battered body to relax, his mind going foggy. But he’d heard Bucky’s voice- he- he _thought_ he’d heard Bucky’s voice

At the reaction, Bucky felt his chest tighten in a mixture of guilt and relief and he crossed the room in two long stride. “ _Hey_ …” He whispered, easing his weight down on the bed beside him. Being careful to take the left hand, and not the injured right, Bucky tenderly clasped his hands around Steve’s drawing it up and pressing a soft kiss against the back of his scuffed knuckled. It was one of the few parts of his body that wasn’t badly injured, and Steve still winced at the shift of his ravaged body. “ _It’s me,_ ” he murmured tenderly, his full, red lips still grazing his skin as he spoke. “It’s me, _I’m right here, sweetheart_ …I got you… _I got you now…”_

Steve felt relief flood his body, for a moment, numbing the pain as effectively as the drug. _Bucky was here._ “Wish I could see you...Still can’t open my eyes…” He breathed, his voice scratchy, and raw from screaming. It came out as little more than a broken whisper.

Bucky let out a huff of laughter, bending to rest his forehead against Steve’s knuckles, with a tight smile. He was just grateful that that Steve still _had_ eyes. It wouldn’t have necessarily been out of character for his father to gouge them out, he’d done similar things in the past. But Steve would heal. In a little while, the swelling would go down and he’d be able to open his eyes again. He just had to tolerate living in darkness for a little while longer.

“Not much the docs can do about the swelling,” Bucky murmured apologetically, kissing his knuckles again, lingering for a moment with his mouth against his skin before drawing back. “But they’ve done a half decent job on the rest of you.”

Steve’s mouth curled into a faint smile, a little wheeze that might have been a weak chuckle falling from his split lips. “Sure doesn’t feel like it…” He rasped with a touch of bitterness, but he comforted himself in the feeling of Bucky’s hands around his own. “Feels like I’ve been through a meat grinder…” Steve murmured before half wishing the words hadn’t escaped him, because Bucky’s hands tightened imperceptibly around his own. He could feel the guilt, and tension suddenly radiating off of him, a little shudder of suppressed pain running through his body.

“Hate to break it to you sugar, but that wasn’t the doctors…” Bucky murmured, his voice tightening, brow drawing darkly. It had all been his father… _His father,_ who he loved his whole life, who’s murderous exploits he’d _conveniently_ ignored because they were all directed at people who where ‘ _below_ ’ them. His father, who’d lashed out his violent temper at him for the first time in his life…who’d nearly killed the boy he loved…and for dragging him into it, Bucky was just as much to blame.

Suddenly Bucky's warmth and comfort crumbled away, his heart twisting with grief as he stared down at Steve's broken body. “Oh Steve, _I’m so sorry_ …” He whispered, his hands tightening as much as he dared to let them, throat suddenly closing as tears burned his eyes. _How had he let this happen?_

“Bucky-” Steve protested weakly, but Bucky lifted his head, expression twisted with pain.

“ _No_ \- I- I never should have dragged you into this- If it wasn’t for me-”

“ _-I’d be dead right now._ ” Steve snapped forcefully, lifting his head off the pillow. Bucky startled at the movement, and the sudden ferocity in his voice, but the energy it took Steve to feel frustrated seemed to suddenly drain him. With a soft groan, Steve tipped his head back deeper into his pillow, exhaling long, and slow, grimacing as the movement shifted his broken ribs. “Buck…” He started again, his tone low, and exhausted. “If you hadn’t hid me, your dad’s men would have killed me before I ever knew I was being targeted…Now don’t get me wrong-” he rasped shortly. “-This _sucks_. But I’d rather be like this than in _pieces_ on my parents doorstep…”

Bucky stared down at him, chest tightening with pain. If he would stop blaming himself even for a moment, and look past his guilt, Bucky preferred that too. He wanted Steve healthy, and uninjured, but if that wasn’t an option, he’d take injured over dead _any day._ The older boy exhaled slowly, his head lowered, suddenly ashamed. Steve was making sense, but still- “I never wanted this for you…” Bucky said softly, lifting his gaze to Steve’s face even though he couldn’t return the glance. Steve looked weary, and in pain, too tired to bicker with him. His head rolled back in the pillow, expression lined with exhaustion. All Bucky’s negativity probably wasn’t helping.

Hesitating for just a moment, Bucky cracked a tight smile, determined to ease the stress of the conversation. He and Steve had always gotten by being assholes to each other, having Bucky tease a little bit would probably help Steve feel a little more normal. Bucky leaned closer, gently resting his fingertips, feather light, against Steve’s jaw. “I mean, I don't want this for you _now_.” He said lightly, “I wouldn’t have cared so much when we first met, but that’s cause I was a major dick…still am probably.”

Steve scoffed weakly, his head rolling to the side, the corners of his mouth turning up ruefully. “You are _not_ -”

“I _totally_ am.”

“ _No_ ,” Steve murmured, and if he could have rolled his eyes Bucky was sure he would have. “You’re only _kind of_ a dick, okay? You’ve stopped leering at skinny blond’s in public places….”

“Yeah?” Bucky scoffed, feeling himself _genuinely_ smile for the first time in what felt like forever, before raising an eyebrow, staring down at Steve from under his thick lashes. “What do you call this then?”

“…Dunno. _Can’t see you.”_

A snort escaped Bucky’s lips, and he bent forward, very carefully touching his forehead to Steve’s, a soft chuckle shaking his shoulders. “Oh _fuck_ Steve-” he laughed, the sound hitching in his throat as he clung to Steve's hand, laughing freely as a huge weight lifted from his chest. “I’m just so glad you’re _alive_.”

Steve smiled faintly, Bucky's laughter ringing like music in his ears. Even just the gentle press of Bucky’s forehead to his own hurt like hell, but he wasn’t about to mention it. Bucky’s gentle gestures were the first loving touches he’d felt since Mr. Barnes has dragged him away from Bucky. Everything between now and then had been lost in a haze of brutality, and it felt good to be handled without malice. _It hurt_. The pressure made Steve’s head ache, but Bucky’s inability to stop touching him was something Steve wouldn’t trade for the world. Besides, the soft jolt and bump of Bucky's forehead against his own fell in sync with his beautiful, rasping chuckle. Steve though he could listen to that sound forever.

Gradually, Bucky's laughter petered off, and he huffed a relieved sigh, smiling down at him. They stayed there for some time, Bucky bending over Steve’s prone figure and tenderly stroking the back of his hand, breathing in the relief of having him still in his life. Steve relaxed into his pillow, his breathing becoming more even the more he was able to relax, drinking in Bucky's careful affection.

“Bucky…” Steve murmured, reluctant to break the comfortable silence, but the gaps in his patchy memory were beginning to eat at him. Bucky hummed in response, daring to drop a tiny, light kiss just on the tip of Steve’s nose. Steve didn’t want to upset him. Bucky had clearly made an effort to steer the conversation away from Steve’s time of torture at his father’s hands. He’d tried to make Steve forget about it, even for a bit, and Steve hated to undo his hard work, but he had to know. “What happened?” Steve asked quietly, his mouth beginning to ache from so much use. “I don’t remember much after-” his words trailed off. He was certain Bucky didn’t want to hear about the trauma and the agony of the ten minutes he’d spent, still conscious, after the blade had pierced his body. He was certain he didn’t want to hear about feeling the knife tear through his flesh, feeling hot blood suddenly soak his shirt as shock made his body clammy and cold. He didn’t want to hear about watching what little vision he had left turn blotchy, and then dark, wondering if this was what dying felt like. Bucky didn’t need to hear that Steve’s last thoughts had been realizing how _little_ they’d spoken of Bucky’s relationship with his father, and wondering if he would kill his own son for deceiving him. These were the things Steve knew would _kill_ Bucky to hear, so he kept them to himself.

“-After a while I guess.” Steve finished absently, wishing he could see Bucky to gauge his reaction to the lie.

Weather Bucky bought Steve’s sidestep of the topic or not was one thing he’d never know. If Bucky had noticed, he decided it wasn’t worth pressing, not when Steve was in as bad a shape as he was.

Sliding his tongue out to wet his lips, Bucky hesitated. Steve was exhausted, and battling extreme pain, he didn't need to be bothered with unimportant details. He could chastise him for throwing himself through a window and almost getting himself killed later. “Well…” Bucky murmured softly, sitting up fully now, his hand resting over Steve’s. “First big thing, I guess, is the dad blocked me into our room…I couldn’t go after him when he took you…” He said, a note of guilty bitterness in his tone. “I have no idea how long it took me to get out…probably most of the afternoon…and when I got down to the basement… _fuck Steve,_ I thought you were dead…I really did-I-I- I saw the knife in your chest and thought… _that’s it…he killed him…he killed Steve_ …” Bucky’s voice dropped off to a rasping whisper, unable to face the possibility that had come all too close to being a reality. “Once I realized you were alive, I knew I needed the handcuff keys to get you out…that’s when my dad showed up.”

In the hospital bed, Steve gave a painful grimace. He’d been afraid if that. He vaguely remembered hearing voices, but in his feverish, half-dead state, they’d muddled together, blending into a horrible cacophony that made his ears ring, and set his teeth on edge. The first clear thing he’d heard was Bucky, apparently after everything with his father had already unfolded.

Again, Bucky wasn’t going to burden Steve with details. It was almost too raw to recount word for word himself. As it was, a summery would have to do. “Long story short,” Bucky said, dragging in a steadying breath. “I…threatened my dad…which was… _absolutely lunatic_ because he has all the power in the world and could have me killed at a moments notice, but as it happened, he just…kicked me out.”

Steve startled, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “Buck-” He said in a low tone, his voice soft, and uncertain. “That…that’s your _home_.”

“Well… _not anymore_ …” he muttered, feeling a tug of pain in his chest despite himself. He shifted back, moving to slid his hand from Steve's but the younger boy turned his hand with a wince of pain, catching it before he could completely draw back, and Bucky stopped dead. The loss of his home wasn’t something Bucky had been ready to face before, he _still_ wasn’t ready. Maybe it had been full of darkness, and death, but it was the only home he’d ever know. Bucky would never regret his decision, he would have saved Steve no matter _what_ it cost him, but it didn’t mean the loss didn’t sting. _And god did it ever sting._

Steve’s hand tightened on his own, as firm, and reassuring as he could manage in his weakened state. “I’m sorry about your home…” He murmured softly, but Bucky managed a tight scoff before the words were hardly out of his mouth.

“It’s probably better.” Bucky murmured, despite the dull ache in his chest. “I could never be around dad, not after what he did to you.”

Steve fell silent, still holding to Bucky’s hand, not wanting to be left alone. Bucky was probably right, in his shoes, Steve would have been able to stay either. But still…knowing Bucky had been thrown out of the only home he’d ever know because of _him_ twisted a knot of guilt in the pit of Steve’s stomach.

“What are you gonna do now?” He asked softly, twitching his fingers on Bucky’s to draw his attention.

Bucky smirked ruefully, his gaze dropping to Steve. _How utterly characteristic_. Steve had been on deaths doorstep all day and _Bucky_ was the one he was worried about. “Dunno.” Bucky responded absently, carefully shifting his weight so he could lean over Steve without hurting him, and a smirk curled at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be keeping an eye on _you_ , that’s for sure.”

A little smile tugged at Steve’s mouth, the boy sensing his closeness, and feeling a weight of guilt and weariness lift from his chest. He was utterly exhausted, but Steve could never back down from the opportunity to banter with Bucky. “Don’t think I can’t take care of myself?” He rasped feeling Bucky’s breath on his lips.

“Oh I know you can’t, sugar.” He teased, grinning down at him. “Besides, who else is gonna yank your punk ass out of fights every other day?” Steve was about to murmur a reply when the door to Steve’s room suddenly bust open. Bucky’s head snapped up, adrenalin dumping into his bloodstream and he suddenly felt his stomach plunge sickly.

Mr. and Mrs Rogers stood in the door way. _He’d never meant to be here when they arrived._

Mrs. Rogers stared, white faced, her mouth dropped in a silent cry at the sight of her child. Her eyes were rimmed with red, hair limp, and tangled, and Bucky felt a vicious twist of guilt, wondering what her son’s unexplained absence had done to her. How many nights had she cried herself to sleep wondering what could have happened to keep Steve away? What was so horrible that he couldn’t tell her?

Mr. Rogers had aged a hundred years. His pale hair had gone even more gray than the last time Bucky had seen him. His face was lined, eyes creased with worry and cheeks sunken deep. Bucky knew full well that without the extra income, their food budget must be getting awfully tight. Bucky didn't know him very well, but Mr. Rogers seemed the type of man to slip back half of his meager portion to make their food last a few days longer for his wife. Now, he stood in the doorway of the hospital room, his gaze locked with the figure stooped over his son.

Bucky froze in mute horror, his eyes locked with Mr. Rogers'. For a heavy second, he didn’t seemed to remember him, and then realization of where he’d seen the young man before dawned in his sunken eyes. _The son of the Barnes family._ The young man who’d come into his house uninvited, _threatened him,_ endangered his family. The young man who was now bent over his only child’s broken body with blood on his hands.

“ _Get away from my son._ ” He hissed raggedly, his muscles coiling with tension, ready to lunge despite the fact that James Barnes was _more_ than a match for him physically. Despite the fact that he was _probably_ armed, and would _probably_ put a knife between his ribs. _Better him than Steve._ Better to die that to watch this monster put even _one_ more scratch on his boy.

“Mr. Rogers-” Bucky said in a low tone, easing slowly to his feet with one hand held out in front of him, his heart in his throat.

Steve jerked at the sound of his father’s voice, pain flaring through his chest. “Dad?” He broke out, his voice cracking as a muffled gasp escaped him.

“Steve it’s okay-” he father blurted desperately, his chest tightening as he dared to risk a glance over at his son. “It’s okay, Steve. I won’t let him hurt you. I won't let him hurt you any more.”

“ _Dad_ -”

“I said _get away from him!”_ Mr. Rogers snapped, his fear for his son making him aggressive and volatile as he pushed between Bucky and his boy, the young man scrambling to the side. He didn't have time to be confused. Mr. Rogers body was prickling with adrenalin, and at the moment, if this disgusting bastard tried anything, he'd better be glad they were already in a hospital, because he would kill him. To keep his family safe, he'd do anything.

Bucky stumbled back away from Mr. Rogers, wanting desperately to not engage in a fight with him. Bucky wasn't his enemy, Joseph Rogers just didn't know it yet. If He took a swing at him, Bucky would let him. He wouldn't fight him, _not Steve's dad_. But he'd rather it not have to come to that at all. Bucky had no hope that Mr. Rogers would _ever_ trust him, but he _needed_ him to not see him as an active threat, so he complied submissively. Bucky backed against the opposite wall, his chin lowered nonthreateningly, hands held out away from him so he could see he was unarmed.

Mrs. Rogers bolted away from the doorway the moment Bucky had backed away from Steve. She hit the floor on her knees, eyes fixed in wide eyed horror at her son, a soft cry tearing from her lips. Mr. Rogers gaze bored into Bucky, disgust and rage written across his features, a tremor running through his body. He wanted to hit him, he wanted to _break_ this arrogant, spoiled, entitled bastard for _daring_ to lay a finger on his son, but Steve’s weak, rasping voice cut through the haze of his fury.

“ _Dad!”_ He choked out again, but his tone was no longer passive, soft, and broken as it was before. It commanded his father’s attention, the man instinctively turning to face him. He stared, his gaze landing on his son’s battered figure, fear, and pain mingling with his fury.

Steve dragged in a rattling breath, the simple effort of being alert having drained him completely. He wanted to sleep, but not until he was sure his father wasn’t going to straggle his boyfriend. They’d had enough instances like that already today. “Dad…leave him alone…” He murmured his exhaustion obvious in his voice. “Bucky got me out of there…” Explaining where _there_ was could come later. “ _He took care of me…_ ”

Mr. Rogers' head snapped up. Bucky, stood against the wall, expression conflicted, his hand once again lowered to his sides. The man blinked, confusion adding the the burning, overwhelming mixture of emotions roiling inside him. _Was Steve insane? Had he suffered a head injury?_ This was _James Barnes._ He was as cruel and selfish as his father. He didn’t care about _people_ , he cared about _money_ , and _pleasure_. Why would he take care of his son? The obvious answer was that he _wanted_ him, was that he was using and exploiting him, but he trusted that Steve’s judgment was better than that. Steve _would_ see if he was being manipulated, or used, _wouldn’t he?_ He _had_ to know that this violent, _sadistic_ bastard wasn’t capable of actually _caring_ about someone, _didn’t he?_

“Steve-” his father murmured in a warning tone, backing away from Bucky just a pace and joining his wife at Steve’s side. “I don’t think-”

“Just trust me.” Steve huffed shortly, too tired to debate the issue. He wanted to rest, he wanted to be with his parents and the boy he loved. He didn’t want to have to mediate the bad blood between Bucky and his dad. His father would have to be satisfied to know the details later. For now, he just had to accept that Steve _trusted_ Bucky, and that he was a part of his life, weather he understood it or not. The full story could come out later.

Bucky wasn’t so optimistic.

Steve’s father would _never_ relax, _never_ let himself focus on Steve if he was too worried about keeping Bucky from hurting him. Steve needed his parents full attention and affection more than anything now, and Bucky couldn’t be the one to stand in he way of that. “Hey Steve…” He said softly, stifling the urge to use one of his affectionate nicknames. Bucky didn’t know how much Steve wanted his parents to know about _them_. If they were lucky, the Rogers would accept that Bucky hadn’t been the one to hurt Steve. He _doubted_ that they were ready to accept that he and Steve were together. “I’m…gonna go for a bit, okay?” He pressed softly, his tongue sliding out to nervously wet his lips. “Be with your folks...tell em whatever you want…”

Steve exhaled painfully. His meds must have been wearing off, because every breath was beginning to feel like fire, crackling over his ribs, burning his lungs with every drawing breath. Still, Steve wished that Bucky would come back to his side even just for a moment; hold his hand, even kiss his aching mouth right in front of his parents, but not just _leave_. But Bucky’s voice had already come from the doorway of his room, and Steve decided he could forgive the affectionless goodbye. He and Bucky had never discussed talking about _them_ to Steve's parents before; there had always been more pressing things to worry about. Steve recognized that Bucky was leaving the decision in his hands, and didn't want to take that from him by pressing suspicious affection on him in front of his parents.

“If you have to go…” He murmured, sleepily, still aching for Bucky's touch despite his respect for Bucky's decision. But the ache eased just a little bit as Steve felt his mother’s fingers brush lightly over his hair, his father boney hand resting carefully against his upper arm. It would be good to be with his parents again. It would be good to feed the part of himself that had ached for _their_ affection, even if it meant loosing Bucky's for a short while. 

Bucky smiled faintly from the doorway, wanting to smother Steve with love, but know that, in their current situation, it just wasn’t the right time. It was time for Steve to be with his family. “I’ll be back soon.” He promised, and turned out of the hospital room, leaving Steve behind under the watchful care of his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter gave me some major trouble, but I think I'm finally satisfied with it. What do you guys think? The boys have a whole new slew of issues to handle, but at least everyone's alive.


	12. Chapter 12

When Bucky had said he’d be back soon, Steve hadn’t thought he’d meant a _week_. Steve had imagined spending time with his family, sleeping, resting, _healing_ , and seeing Bucky waltz back through the door a day or _maybe_ two later.

But it was a week.

For seven days, Steve lay, cooped up in his hospital bed. After finally letting the nurses give him something to help him rest, Steve slept straight through the night and the first day, waking in the evening with his father asleep in the chair beside him, head pillowed in his arms on Steve’s mattress. By the second day, Steve begun explaining to his parents the broad concepts of what had happened, keeping his exact relationship with Bucky, for now, ambiguous.

He told them about making the deal with Bucky, about going to the mansion to confront him after Mr. Barnes’ hit man had attacked his father. He told them about overhearing Mr. Barnes’ plan to have Steve killed to punish Mr. Rogers for the disbelieved lie from his son. He told them about Bucky hiding him, keeping him safe, and alive for _days_ until one little slip lead to his discovery, and subsequent torture. Steve couldn’t bear to tell them in detail just what Mr. Barnes had done. He knew it would make his parents heartsick to hear, so he skimmed over the gory specifics, picking back up with Bucky giving up his safety, _his home_ , to keep him alive.

Steve wanted his parents, his father _particularly_ , to trust Bucky. He knew his mother. She may be reserved at first, but she would trust Steve’s judgment and, in time, grow to love Bucky like a second son. His father…his father, he wasn’t sure of. Steve understood. His father was suspicious, mistrustful, and scared. He had seen Bucky at his worst and knew only that he was someone that he needed to protect his family from. He didn’t trust him, not with Steve, and Steve understood that that impression wouldn’t be quick to change. He had done his best to assure him that Bucky had done everything in his power to protect him, but his father couldn’t yet accept that Bucky’s apparent nobility was genuine.

By the third day, the swelling in his face and eyelids had gone down, and Steve had been able to open his eyes, seeing his parents for the first time in over a week. It stung that he couldn’t see Bucky too.

Day four, he was allowed to call Bucky’s cellphone, only to receive no reply. Days five and six were spent sleeping, trying a little painful walking around his room, and getting chastised by his nurse for being out of bed without assistance. His parents were never far. After the first two nights, Steve insist they go home at least to sleep, although they hardly left his side during the days. His father was around more frequently than his mother. Though it killed her to leave him, even for a moment, her meager income was all they were surviving on, and her shifts at one of the other hospitals in Brooklyn were the only thing keeping their heads above water… _for now._

Day seven dawned as whitewashed and uninspiring as every passing day in the hospital. Steve had already left his usual three messages a day on Bucky’s phone, and was beginning to feel a mixture of fear, and hurt. Because maybe Bucky was in trouble, but if he wasn’t, _why hadn’t he come back?_

-.-

Steve lay in bed, absently picking at the edge of the cast that now covered his right forearm, held against him by a sling. The butter-fly strap that stabilized his broken collarbone itched, and never quite lay flat when he tried to sleep, always lumpy, pressing uncomfortably between his shoulder blades. It could be worse though. His legs had remained fairly undamaged, save for the chaffing around his ankles which had already healed to the point that they no longer needed bandages. His wrists were another story entirely.

His nurse had changed the bandaged on his lefts wrist a few days ago, and the sight had nearly made Steve hurl. The skin had been rubbed back in thick ridges, blood red; the more severe sore weeping a clear fluid. Without some fairly expensive reconstructive surgeries, he had been told that he would have severe scarring on both wrists, but he knew that wasn’t a luxury they could afford. He needed enough care to keep him alive, anything else, he could survive without.

Steve huffed a sigh, having learned to ignore the ache in his ribs with every breath. It was getting better, but it still hurt like fuck. He was getting restless, and agitated. It was beginning to seem like he was going to spend the rest of his life cooped up. First a single room in Bucky’s giant mansion, now a single room in a giant hospital.

_He wanted to move._

_He wanted to get out._

_More than anything, he wanted Bucky._

Steve heard the door to his room click, and abruptly let his eyes close, evening out his pattern of breathing. He was tired, and frustrated. He was hardly in the mood to talk to his family, or his nurse, knowing that if he did, he’d only snap at them, which would hardly be fair. They’d done nothing wrong. They’d done everything they could for him. Steve was just bitter, and lonely; stung more than he could express by Bucky’s total, and unexplained cut of contact. He closed his eyes, and pretended to be asleep. A moment later, Steve felt a weight dip the mattress beside him, featherlight touch brushing over the cap of his shoulder.

“ _Stevie_ …”

Steve, startled, his eyes flying open, as he found himself suddenly staring up into Bucky’s sheepishly smile face.

“You _dick_ -” Steve snapped abruptly, trying to sit up, his expression twisting with anger. Bucky jerked in alarm, hurriedly grabbing his uninjured shoulder and pressing him back down.

“Hey- hey- Stevie-”

“You _total dick!”_ Steve accused again, anger warring with relief inside of him as he squirmed against Bucky's hand. “Why’d you disappear on me? You said you’d be back!” He snapped bitterly, watching as Bucky’s gaze flickered nervously to the doorway. Steve’s father stood just outside the door, tense, and watchful, waiting for the second Steve gave a signal that he needed his help.

“Steve- _Steve!”_ Bucky protested earnestly, staring him dead in the eye until Steve huffed, falling silent, his nose wrinkled with agitation. Once Steve had fallen into brooding silence, the little, sheepish smile tugged once more at the corners of Bucky’s mouth, and his thumb began rubbing softly over the cap of Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve, I haven’t just been sitting around with my hands up my ass this whole time,” he said quietly, before smirking faintly, easing just an inch closer, not daring to go any further in Mr. Rogers’ presence. “Don’t'cha think if I was just loafin’ around, that I wouldn’t have rather been here with _you?”_ He asked softly, a touch of regret in his voice. “I had a lot I needed to sort, and you needed to spend time with your folks.”

“You never answered your phone.” Steve said coldly, not _quite_ ready to shake five days of bitter frustration and loneliness.

A pain smirk tugged at Bucky’s mouth, and he dropped his chin. “All my shit was still at the mansion until today. I saw your messages on the way over. _Sorry Steve.”_

Steve hesitated, and allowed a little of his agitation to slip away. Of course. Since being kicked out, Bucky had nothing more in the world than his car, and the clothes on his back. The tension in his body relaxed, his frustration fading as he huffed a sigh. “What kept you so busy?” He asked quietly, possibly still a little upset that he hadn’t come back to see him sooner.

“Well,” Bucky murmured. “Sleep first. Once I knew you were gonna be okay, and you had your parents to look after you, I got a motel room and slept for eighteen hours straight. I wanted you to have time to be with just your family, _alone_. I couldn’t be in the way of that, so I started taking some time and figuring out what to do with my life now that I’ve been cut off." He said, his voice dropping off a little, before he covered it with a tight laugh. "I uh…had the back seat of my car cleaned, then sold it. Bought something a little more… _moderate_ …”

Steve thought he detected a touch of bitterness in his tone. Bucky had made leaps and bounds towards being a better person, but he was _still_ spoiled. He liked his luxurious life, and by extension, his luxurious car, but with no family fortune to fall back on, it wasn’t a practical option.

“I bought a couple changes of clothing from a thrift store. _A thrift store_ , Steve!” Bucky huffed, looking a little agitated before continuing. “Mostly...I just tried to figure out what my next step was supposed to be. And earlier today...I met with my mom." At this, a small smile graced Bucky's lips, his gaze growing a little distant. "I knew I couldn’t go home, but I called her private line. She and I met at a cafe. She brought me everything I owned, and…we talked…for a _long_ time…I know she keeps her personal opinions out of dad’s business entirely, but…she didn’t want to see me go…but she understood that I couldn’t come back.” Bucky murmured, his expression flickering with pain.

Steve hesitated, finally letting go of the last of his frustration. Bucky had probably needed all that time just to process. While Steve had been soaking in the affection of his family, Bucky was trying to learn to cope without it. Steve shifted his left hand, gently resting it on Bucky’s knee. A silent apology for his irritability.

Bucky shook himself back to the present, a little smile touching his mouth. “She’s gonna keep in touch. I mean, my dad can’t know, but, she’s gonna call. I’m still gonna be able to see her now and again.” Bucky paused for just a moment, before his smile faded just a little. “I’m sorry I upset you.” He said quietly, indulging in the sensation of Steve’s hand resting softly against his knee. “I just wanted you to be able to be with your family.”

Steve smiled faintly, his hand gently sliding up, curling into the collar of Bucky’s thrift store shirt. And he suddenly pulled Bucky down into an unexpected kiss.

Bucky startled, his cheeks flushing, hands fumbling helplessly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Rogers shift in the doorway. He squirmed, his hands suddenly finding purchase. Closing softly over Steve’s, he gently disentangled his fingers from his collar, breaking the unforeseen kiss with a nervous little huff.

“Don’t hurt yer lips, Sugar.” He whispered, teasing lightly to cover his straight up terror of Mr. Rogers reaction.

Steve groaned softly, tugging his hand from Bucky’s and nabbing the front of his shirt again, aching for his affection. “Lips have been fine for _days_ now, they heal fast. _C'mon Buck-”_

“ _Stevie_ -” he hissed nervously, his heart in his throat as his eyes darted towards the doorway. Steve buffered, his gaze following Bucky’s to the doorway

Mr. Rogers had been resting his weight against the wooden frame, cautious, and watchful. He hadn’t been thrilled to see Bucky walking through the hospital door. But if this boy had to be around his son, he wanted to be there to make sure he was safe. Until just now, Mr. Rogers had let his awareness ease just a little. Bucky seemed genuine. After initial irritation, Steve seemed happy to see him. He’d almost relaxed when his son had tugged the Barnes boy into a kiss.

The two boy’s were staring at him now, Bucky, with what could only be described as terror, Steve, with mild indecision.

“Dad?” Steve pressed, stealing a glance up at Bucky before looking back to his father. “Could you-”

Mr. Rogers stared, dumbfounded at his son’s request. He wasn’t to the point where he trusted Bucky to be alone with his son, but he’d always been careful to respect Steve when he needed privacy. And now, as it turned out, Steve was… _involved_ with him…he wasn’t sure he was surprised, given they way Steve had spoken about him over the past few days, but knowing it for certain was a different field entirely.

_“Please?”_

Mr. Rogers shifted with indecision before fixing his son with a serious stare. “I’m gonna be _right_ outside.” He said, conflicted that he had to have him out of his sight at all, but at least  _trying_ to trust Steve. “Just…yell if you need me.” _If he tries to hurt you._

Steve nodded, understanding his father’s reluctance to compromise. He was scared for him, and it was touching, but Steve hadn’t seen Bucky in a week, and he’d appreciate even the small measure of privacy the thin hospital walls allowed.

Steve’s father turned, and with one more extremely doubtful glance at Bucky, closed to door.

Bucky let out a huff of relief, finally relinquishing the fear that Steve father would have physically dragged him off his son at the sight of the completely non-platonic affection. His gaze dropped to Steve, alarmed, and a little confused. “ _You told them?”_ He breathed, still stunned. He had left the decision of how much his parents knew completely up to Steve, but he hadn’t _really_ expected-

“I didn’t _tell_ them,” Steve said, twitching his left shoulder in a gesture that somewhat imitated a shrug. “But they _knew_. They were just waiting for me to explicitly _tell_ them before we actually talked about it, I mean come on Buck-” he scoffed, before his voice dropped off the a conspiratorial murmur. “When you fuck as often as you and I did it leaves some unexplained gaps in a story…now they don’t know about _that_ , but I’m pretty sure mum and dad both guessed we were together.”

“And that’s… _okay_ with them?” Bucky whispered incredulously, leaning a little closer as Steve smiled faintly up at him.

“The, _‘Steve’s as straight as coiled spring,’_ thing? Yeah. The, _'Steve’s dating a Barnes’_ thing… _that’s_ taking a little more time to sink in.” Bucky scoffed, still unable to believe that Steve’s idea of a dating announcement consisted of kissing him square in the mouth right in front of his father. He was sure his dad was gonna _love_ that.

Bucky stopped a moment, his wet, pink tongue sliding out to wet his lips as he drank in his first good, long look at Steve since he’d arrived. He’d already made some remarkable progress. The bones were going to take time to heal, that was just the bottom line. But the ugly swelling in Steve’s face had gone down almost completely, and the bruises were beginning to fade. He still looked battered, and rough around the edges, but Bucky couldn’t have cared less. He was still too beautiful for Bucky to even grasp. _How had he gotten so lucky?_

“ _Fuck_ …” Bucky whispered, staring down at him. “Yer lips did heal up nice, baby doll…”

A little smirk tugged at the corners of Steve’s mouth and he tipped up his chin, ignoring the little network of aches and twinges that still rippled through his body whenever he moved. “They haven’t gotten a lotta use since you left.” He tempted. “I’d hate to think I got rusty.”

Bucky smirked, easing carefully over him, holding his weight above Steve’s fragile body without so much as nudging him. “Not you…” He whispered, keeping his voice hushed, “yer too good a learner, found that out myself. I’m sure you’ll remember everything _just fine.”_

Steve smirked, his one good hand sneaking up around the back of Bucky’s neck, drawing him down and pressing his mouth to his. _God_ he’d missed that. Bucky’s mouth felt like heaven, soft, and tender, like velvet against his healing mouth. He moved so careful, and just like before, his care made Steve feel less _helpless_ , and more _loved_. The younger boy exhaled softly into the kiss, parting his lips and encouraging Bucky with a light brush of his tongue.

A soft moan slipped from Bucky’s lips, and he pressed closer, still maintaining tender care as his mouth fit perfectly into the warm curve of Steve's. He could feel the baby soft new skin over the healing splits on Steve’s lips, his tongue brushing over them, and the boy shuddered under his touch.

“Bucky-” he breathed, his fingers curling into a fist in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his closer, groaning into his mouth. Bucky shifted lower, and a thrill ran through Steve’s body, arousal pounding, hot around his body as Bucky’s fingers grazed lightly along his side, catching on the hem of his shirt and easing it up just enough to brush his skin. He shivered, shifting his hips just slightly, and slotting one, slender thigh between Bucky’s legs.

Bucky jolted as Steve’s thigh slid up between his legs, nudging against his hardening cock and he broke away suddenly. “Steve- Stevie _no_ -” he whispered, reluctance lacing his tone, as he fixed the hem of Steve’s shirt.

 _“C'mon_ …” Steve moaned needily, groaning as Bucky untangled Steve’s fingers from his hair. “He’s not gonna hear- Buck- I’ve missed you, _please_ -”

Bucky huffed a sigh, easing Steve’s thigh from between his legs lest his resolve waver. “Steve-” he scoffed quietly, nuzzling against his face, being careful not to nudge the stitches above his left eyebrow. “That’s _not_ what I’m worried about-”

Steve fixed him with a stare, and Bucky trailed off, before a sheepish smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Okay, _maybe_ I am. But I'm  _more_ worried about hurting you. There’s no way to do this that won’t mess up yer healing.” Steve was about to protest, but Bucky cut his off with a short kiss. “Look,” he breathed, his words whispered intimately between them for only Steve to hear. “What happens when I roll your hips forward to get at that pretty, tight ass of yours, _huh?”_ He murmured. “It’s gonna fuck up that last rib the doctors worked so hard on. Grabbing your shoulder to hold you still while I pound you into the mattress? _Collar bone._ Can’t touch it. And even if I _didn’t_ have to twist your little body around to get at you, you wouldn’t be able to lay on your stomach to save your life.”

Steve muffled a moan, his eyelids falling closed. “Fuck- Bucky you’re killing me…” He rasped, the imagery making him weak, and Bucky’s mouth curled into an infuriating smirk as he pressed it against his lips.

“Don’t let yer Pa hear you say that….”

“Just a quicky?” Steve tempted as Bucky broke the kiss, but the older boy was already shaking his head.

“ _Nope_. Yer just gonna have to get better, _then I’ll give you a treat._ ” He purred, dropping a subtle wink as he took his seat back on the edge of the bed. The mattress shifted underneath him and Bucky settled back down, trying to ignore his hardened cock pressing into the zipper of his jeans. _Fuck, his Stevie was so sweet_ …but he knew he couldn’t get to touching him too much. He was still too badly injured. Just cause the surface bruises were fading didn’t mean he was completely healed.

Steve’s expression had twisted into a look of annoyance, and he stared up at Bucky, his eyes narrowed, nose wrinkled in that irresistible way that drove Bucky crazy. He wasn’t _really_ mad, but _fuck_ did he ever want Bucky. It had been over a week. He was restless, and starved for affection. His parents had been drowning him in all the affection of theirs that he had missed so much, but he needed _Bucky’s_ affection, _craved it._ Bucky had hardly dared touch him seven days ago, but Steve _ached_ for it now.

At the sight of Steve’s adorably wrinkled nose, Bucky’s mouth spread into a gentle smile, and something secret, and conspiratorial suddenly glinted in his steel blue eyes. “Stevie,” he said softly, his fingers bruising along his forearm to draw his attention. “There’s one more thing I worked on this past week while I was away. I didn’t want to mention it before, but…”

Steve’s expression of annoyance eased, and a little smirk lifted one corner of his mouth. As Bucky trailed off, eyes gleaming, Steve felt a sure of anticipation. “What?” He pressed anxiously, feeling a prickle of curiosity run through his body. Whatever is was, the look on Bucky’s face showed it was big.

Bucky leaned close, eyes alive with delight, his forehead brushing Steve’s as his mouth pulled into a grin. _“I found your dad a job.”_

Steve startled, his mouth dropping open as he stared up at Bucky’s delighted expression. For just a moment, relief flooded through his entire body. They wouldn’t have have to go hungry, they wouldn’t have to loose their home. By suddenly a weight sunk on to Steve’s chest, as the relief turned to cold disappointment.

“Buck-” he said quietly, his fingers brushing softly along Bucky’s thigh, eyes suddenly dropped. “Dad can’t do any kind of manual labor yet, not with his hand the way it is…it hasn’t healed all the way…I…don’t think he _can_ work.” He murmured, a note of bitter disappointment in his tone. He appreciated Bucky searching for somewhere that would hire him, but it just wasn’t possible.

At the shift in Steve’s tone, Bucky’s excitement stuttered, faltering, as he stared down at the resigned look on Steve’s face. His eyes were lowered, mouth set in a thin line, and Bucky could suddenly feel how scared he was under all his show of strength. He didn’t want to have to face to depraved poverty that his family had _just_ managed to stave off so far. He was young, and brave, but even Steve was afraid of a life of endless toil, only to be sucked deeper, and deeper regardless of any amount of effort. He wanted to do something with his life…not just work himself to death so he could avoid dying of starvation instead.

Bucky swallowed, feeling a prickling jitter run though his body as his fingers curled around Steve’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Steve?” He said softly, waiting until Steve exhaled a huff of air, dragging his eyes up to meet Bucky’s.

“Its a managerial position.”

Steve froze, Bucky’s words hitting him with dull realization. A managerial position…His dad had been searching for months now, even for the work no one else wanted to do, for anything, _anything_ to support his family. He’d hauled junk and old tires, dug ditches, and dragged concrete foundation blocks. He wasn’t a strong man, but he'd stretched his body further than it could go just to scrape together a _little_ more income. Now, with the index finger of his left hand raggedly hacked off, the drudge work that had been so difficult was suddenly impossible.

_But a managerial position…_

Steve stared up at Bucky, suddenly wordless, his head spinning. “A-” he started, blinking rapidly. “A manager? For what- Buck- how’d you-”

Steve’s reaction, as the words sunk in, warmed Bucky’s easy smile, and his grip tightened on Steve’s hand, the older boy beaming down at him. “Believe it or not, I _actually_ have connections _outside_ of my dads work. I mean, granted, they gave me the time of day _because_ of that, but the business doesn’t have any ties to my dad at all. It’s a subset of a larger corporation, so its local, but the pay’s good. They were looking to train up a new manager, I said I knew the right guy for the job.” Bucky’s easy smirk, turning softer as he closed his hand over Steve’s giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yer dad’s a smart guy. I’m sure he won’t have any trouble learning the ropes.”

Steve blinked rapidly, still dazed at the impact this would have on his life, on the lives of his family. His head snapped up, and he suddenly freed his hand from Bucky’s, slipping it around the back of his back and tugging him down into as tight a hug as he could manage. “Buck-” he said tightly, head tipped forward, face pressed into his shoulder. “God- Buck- this is…it’s- thank you.” He breathed, his fingers digging into the firm muscles of Bucky’s shoulder blade, holding him close.

“Careful.” Bucky whispered, feeling his chest nudge up against Steve’s casted right arm as the smaller boy pulled him in, but his hold refused to ease. Bucky turned his nose into Steve’s hair, inhaling deeply, his hand rubbing gently along his waist where he knew the bruising was minimal. “You think he’ll take it?” Bucky whispered, voicing a concerned he’d fostered since he’d begun his search. “I know he doesn’t like me…but my family got him shut out of the only money he had coming, I just…wanted to make that right… _better even_ , if I could…”

Steve pressed into the crook of Bucky’s neck, his ribs aching as he gave a tight little huff of laughter. “He’ll take it-” he said hurriedly, fingers tightening on Bucky’s back. “He’ll take it, Buck- he’s gotta. He kind of hates you a little, but he won’t snub a perfectly good job just over _you_. You said the company’s clean? No mob ties?”

“None whatsoever,” he whispered, kissing the top of Steve’s head, nuzzling into his soft blond hair. “I promise…promise, Steve…”

Steve hummed his satisfaction, eyes falling closed as he relaxed into the embrace, soaking in Bucky’s warmth and weight overtop of him. His grip eased, fingers brushing in lazy, contented strokes down Bucky’s spine. For his part, Bucky didn’t move. He stayed bent over Steve, held in place by his arm looped loosely around his back, his nose still nestled into Steve’s hair. The older boy rubbed his hand softly over Steve’s waist, occasionally laying gentle kisses against Steve’s temple, and ear, but never shifting enough to disrupt the comfort of the hug.

Bucky lost track of how long they stayed there. Bucky was content to hold Steve as close as he was able, Steve drinking in Bucky’s affectionate touch. At one point, Bucky heard the door creak open just slightly, and knew instinctively that Mr. Rogers was checking in on his son, but he didn’t bother to even glance up. Anyone could see that Steve was comfortable, and content, reciprocating Bucky’s gentle affection. A few moments later, the door clicked softly closed.

Below him, Steve gave a tiny snort, his lush, pink lips easing into a little smirk. “He’s _gonna_ get used to this…” He murmured sleepily, his eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones, shifting his head a little as Bucky kissed just behind his ear.

Bucky smiled against Steve’s neck, shifting a little lower to touch light pecks along the under side of his jaw. “I hope…” He murmured doubtfully, a little frown tugging at his brow.

“ _He_ _will_.” Steve insisted firmly, poking Bucky in the side. “He just doesn’t know you like I do.”

Bucky smiled at the poke, shifting a little to escape it. “ _No one_ knows me way you do, doll face.” He purred, kissing his chin before finally shifting up, Steve’s hand sliding back to rest on his thigh as Bucky withdrew.

He looked up at him, a faint smile touching his lips as he traced his index finger over the top of Bucky’s thigh, absently brushing light patterns over his jeans. “So…” He murmured, looking up at Bucky through his lashes, warm, and relaxed. “You said you’d been making plans for what you're gonna do now. Am I allowed to know, or is it strictly confidential?”

Bucky smirked, playfully shoving Steve’s hand off his thigh. “Well, first thing, I’m going back to school.”

“Though you _were_ in school.” Steve countered, arching an eyebrow, and Bucky gave a short snort.

“In a manner of speaking. I fucked around so much I didn’t learn shit. The only reason I didn’t flunk out of every class I took was cause the professors were too scared to give me below a B, knew the mob leader would have words with them if they failed his kid.” He scoffed, his nose wrinkling slightly. That had never bothered him before. College had been a formality, he’d always known he was going to end up taking over for his father, he didn’t need to take an exam to land him there. Now, his life was a blank slate, and he needed to make something of it. He needed a direction, good grades, and a career, so that, for the first time, he could make a life for himself _separate_ from his father’s empire.

Bucky gave a soft groan, stretching back to rest his weight on the heels of his hands. “I’m probably gonna be saddled with a full four year program but…I guess it’ll be worth it.”

Steve smirked faintly, feeling pride stirring in his chest. Bucky was taking charge of his life. He was making something good for himself, and Steve couldn’t have been happier for him. “I guess you’ll surprise all you teachers, huh?” He smirked. “James Barnes: _loose cannon turned model student_.”

A grin flashed across Bucky’s face, but it suddenly faltered, slowly easing away. He reached up, scratching at the back of his neck as his gaze drifted from Steve’s. “Uh…I won’t have the same teachers.” He said absently, his tone still neutral, and conversational, despite the tell tale drop of his expression.

Steve blinked, grimacing as he shifted himself higher on his pillow, lifting his head to look at Bucky. “Whadd'ya mean?” He asked, a little frown tugging at his brow, Bucky’s tone stirring a niggle of unease in the pit of his stomach.

Bucky sunk his teeth into his lower lip, eyelids lowered, not meeting his gaze. “I uh…I don’t think I could keep attending there. Everyone knows me. No ones gonna let me earn my way, they’re just gonna throw it at me, and I can’t do that. _Not anymore._ ” He murmured, before a short, forced bark if laughter escaped his lips. “Besides,” he scoffed, “I was noticed _plenty_ enough as the son of George Barnes, I don’t think I’m gonna get any _less_ attention as the _estranged_ son of George Barnes…”

Steve stared at Bucky, his words washing over him, leaving a sudden numbness in his body as his chest constricted with fear. “You’re leaving.” Steve said in a low tone; not a question, but a fact. Bucky was leaving, Steve could see that clear as day.

Bucky swallowed, his expression twisted with conflicted guilt, his breath going a little uneven as he shifted restlessly where he sat. “I _can’t_ stay.” He replied softly, forcing himself to meet Steve’s gaze. “I don’t _wanna_ go, and if I could really have a life here I would stay but- I- I can’t, Steve, you _know_ I can’t. I can’t…walk past my home, and know I can’t go back there- I can’t keeping going to school here knowing I’m getting the grades I am cause of my last name! My degree, my job, the people who choose to be around me, it’s just gonna be like it has been my whole life! No one really wants _me_ , Steve, the only reason _anyone_ besides you has _ever_ stayed in my life is because I’m a Barnes, and I can’t let that be my entire future. I-” Bucky’s voice faltered, weakening as Steve stared back at him. “I- I gotta get out…Steve _I have to get out….”_

Steve met Bucky’s desperate stare, his mind a hurricane of conflicted emotions, jarring around in his head; hurt, guilt, understanding, betrayal. He couldn’t sort one feeling from another. Only one thought prevailed above the others. Bucky’s leaving me. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, or weather or not it understood, it was just there. Like a concrete wall. Like a boulder sitting on his chest.

_Bucky’s leaving me._

Steve dragged in a deep a breath as his was able, the sharp pain in his rib sending clarity crackling through his mind. “Where?” He asked quietly, his tone perched just on the edge of neutral, teetering over anger, acceptance, fear, or understanding. One nudge in the wrong direction could change everything.

“Virginia.” Bucky said quietly, his eyes dropping away. “I’ve applied to a good school down there…It’ll get me out of the limelight…apparently there’s a lot of Barnes in Virginia. No ones gonna think twice about me…”

Steve swallowed back the thick knot that was forming in his throat, trying to think logically, trying to think of what was best for Bucky. Bucky had given up _everything_ for him…but Steve hadn’t thought he’d have to give up _Bucky_. He loved him, he- he _needed_ Bucky in his life, he couldn’t just…be _gone_ …the thought made Steve feel suddenly sick.

A cautious touch against his forearm snapped Steve out of the spiral of utter disorientation and his head jerked up, eyes flashing up to Bucky.

“Stevie?” Bucky coaxed gently, but his voice was thick, and he swallowed hard, forcing a pained smile. “C'mon baby doll… _talk to me_ …don’t shut me out.” He pleaded, tenderly stroking along Steve’s arm. The longer the younger boy stared at him, the more uneasy Bucky grew. He didn’t want to hurt Steve, that was the _last_ thing he wanted. But Bucky knew, at a gut level, that he couldn’t stay in Brooklyn. He _had_ to leave, but he didn’t want to break Steve’s heart in the process.

Steve blinked, head spinning, chest tight. It felt like an asthma attack, but worse; colder, tighter. He felt like his chest was going to implode, piercing his aching heart with the shrapnel of his ribcage. Bucky was gently prodding him but he couldn’t think of a thing to say. _I love you? Don’t leave me? I don’t want to do this without you?_

“No- Buck- that’s _great_.”

Steve’s words rang hollow in Bucky’s ears and a pained smile touched the corners of his mouth, his chest aching as he gripped Steve’s hand. “C'mon Stevie…” He murmured. “Yer shit at lying. Talk to me.”

Steve felt his battered body coil with tension, his emotions wound inside him like a spring closed in a tiny box. Compressed. Trapped. The blond squirmed where he lay, suddenly uncomfortable regardless of position. “Bucky-” he murmured, not meeting his gaze. “I’m proud of you. I really am…”

“But?” Bucky pressed, knowing Steve would be reluctant to continue on his own.

Steve’s expression twisted with agony, and he lifted his gaze to Bucky, eyes alight with suppressed pain. “I just thought- it’s finally _over_ Buck! I thought…now that we’re finally safe…that it could almost be _normal_ … _I thought that we could be together_ …” Steve said, his tone betraying bitter disappointment, and a kind of pain that cut deeply, even thought he couldn’t bring himself to blame Bucky.

 _“Steve!”_ Bucky cried, his voice laced with pain, as his mouth dropped open, eyes flashing with hurt. “I’m not leave _you_ , Steve! I’m not _dumping_ you! I- it’s just- we just need to be a little more creative, that’s all!” Bucky swallowed hard, his chest knotting with grief as the realization sunk in that Steve hadn’t just thought Bucky was leaving; he thought he was leaving _him_. He reached forward, feverishly cupping along the side of Steve’s jaw, lifting his face, his eyes glinting with frantic desperation. “Steve, I’m not gonna be away to whole time.” He pressed urgently, not wanted to let Steve withdraw into himself and block him out. “I can come back for weekends now and again. Holidays too. C'mon, _Easter dinner,_ remember? You and yer folks are gonna have to put up with me for Easter dinner, that was the plan.”

Steve hesitated, his distant gaze growing a little clearer as Bucky spoke earnest, and pleading, his thumb rubbing softly over his cheekbone. Slowly, Steve lifted his gaze, meeting Bucky’s eyes, still conflicted, still aching for him to stay by his side.

At Steve's movement, Bucky pressed on, his tone growing soft, and warm, still tenderly stroking his face and jaw. “When classes let out in the spring, I’ll come back to Brooklyn…spend the whole summer with you…and your folks can put me up in the guest room of that nice, comfy new house that yer gonna be able to afford. We can sneak around like a couple of teenagers, and I’ll take you out somewhere different every night, and we can stay out _all night_ , and sleep under the stars…and when I _do_ have to go back once fall semester’s started, you can come down and stay with me for whole weeks at a time, and we can both sleep together in my crappy dorm bed, and hang a sock on the door so everyone knows that I’m _all yours_ , Stevie…” He whispered, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly over his temple as he touched an aching kiss to his soft lips.

Steve breathed pained sigh into the kiss, his chest aching dully as Bucky’s opposite hand came up to cradle his face in both hands, thumbs brushing tenderly over his closed eyelids.

“All yours…” He breathed against his parted lips, eyelashes bushing against Steve’s cheeks. “ _All yours._ No one else’s… _just you Stevie…”_ Bucky murmured, swallowing back the knot in his throat as he coaxed the love of his life back to him, softly kissing the boy’s lips, stroking his cheeks and whispering intimately between them.

Steve shivered, his expression phasing with discomfort before the fight suddenly went out of his body, and he went limp under Bucky’s touch. The slender boy moaned softly, Bucky’s mouth warm, and tender on his own, his affection laced with desperation. “You-” he started shortly, his voice barely a over a whisper before he broke the kiss more fully with a muted gasp. “You really need this, don’t you?” Steve asked, eyes closed, mouth parted, his forehead pressed against Bucky’s.

Bucky swallowed, staring at him, breathless, wordless, and he forced a tiny nod. Bucky needed to get out of Brooklyn more than he’d realized. His life could never be his own here, and seeing his family’s mansion, his home, looming in the background of his everyday life would never let the wound, torn by his father’s abandonment, heal. It would fester in the hidden parts if his soul, putrefying until the ragged hurt ate him alive. Somewhere else, somewhere far away, Bucky could recover from being severed from his home, and family. Tearing himself from Brooklyn would be _agonizing_ , but it would cauterize the wound, allowing time to start its work with the emotional damage. That couldn’t happen here. Brooklyn could never be home to Bucky again.

Steve dragged in a shaky breath, trying to summon up the images Bucky had painted in his mind of long summers spent with just each other; of curling up together on a dormitory mattress and pretending like the world outside their little room didn’t exist. He needed to cling to those thoughts of the future, otherwise he might not back able to let go of Bucky _now_.

“I’m gonna miss you…” Steve murmured, finally letting acceptance sooth the ache in his soul.

Bucky gave a tight chuckle, The knot inside him finally beginning to ease as Steve’s good arm came up around the back of his neck, holding him close as Bucky shifted his nose along the underside of Steve’s jaw. “Me too…” He whispered, his breath warm on Steve’s neck as he pressed closer, kissing his pale white skin. “Me too baby doll… _fuck,_ I’m gonna miss you like _crazy.._.” Bucky kissed down the length of Steve’s throat, the smaller boy uttering a quite hum of pleasure, his fingers slipping up to tug through Buck’s hair. “Four years…” Bucky whispered. “Four years ain’t so bad, not with summers, and weekends, and holidays…but _shit Steve, am I gonna miss you…._ ”

Steve shifted, Bucky’s warm mouth working back up his throat, careful, and gentle, _aching_ to make up for all the time they would loose. He closed his eyes, carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair and relaxing into the touch, quite, and content, letting himself accept the turn in Bucky’s fate. This was a part of life. Really loving someone meant accepting what was best for _them_ , and helping them along the way.

“When do you leave?” Steve murmured, as Bucky focused on the underside of his jaw, licking, kissing, and sucking little blotches of pink that would fade within minutes.

Bucky hummed against his throat, kissing under Steve’s ear, and then up to his temple. “Six weeks if all goes according to plan…” He murmured, grateful that he at least had _that_ long with Steve. He wouldn’t have been able to bear leaving before he knew Steve was well on his way to a full recovery. He wanted to see him up and walking, he wanted to see his wrists healing over and his arm out of the cast. He wanted to see his Steve without the constant shadow of pain lingering behind his features.

Abruptly, Bucky snorted against the side of Steve’s neck, his mouth curling into a smile against his skin. “I just thought of something…” He murmured, lifting his head and looking down at Steve with an expression teetering between amusement and disbelief. “I ain’t gonna be all that rich by the time this all blows over.” He said, his incredulous smirk faltering as his mind darted back to having to sell his luxurious car.

Steve wrinkled his nose, a little smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he shoved Bucky back. “Don’t be such a baby.” He scoffed, shifting a little to get comfortable. “Your personal bank account _alone_ probably has enough money in it to buy that great big family mansion _twice over_. ”

Bucky shook his head, still looking conflicted at his new state of affairs. “Not quite _that_ much.” He said definitively. “I mean, there’s a shit-ton of money there, don't get me wrong, but medical bills aren’t cheep, and tuition’s a bitch. By the time I’m done paying for my own schooling I’m gonna be comfortably middle class.” Bucky turned his gaze down to Steve, watching him from under his lashes. “Looks like yer gonna make a respectable member of society out of me yet, Stevie.”

Steve met his gaze, thoughtfully for a moment before he reached up, drawing Bucky back down into a gentle kiss. “Ain’t never gonna be _anything_ respectable about you, Barnes.” He teased easily, dropping back onto his pillows, his fingers still loosely curled in the front of Bucky’s shirt.

Bucky smirked, stopping for one more quick kiss against Steve’s soft mouth. “A fella can dream, can’t he?” He teased back, gently smoothing Steve’s pale gold hair flat, his eyes growing warm with a kind of deep, genuine affection that Bucky would have never imagined himself capable of. Since meeting Steve, Bucky had been more stressed, conflicted, and frightened than he’d been in his _entire life,_ but he’d also never been happier. Since meeting Steve, Bucky had fallen in love; _truly_ , and _completely_ fallen in love with him, and Bucky wouldn’t trade that for all the money in the world.

“Now,” Bucky murmured, lightly kissing Steve’s forehead before drawing back. “Your nurse is gonna kill me for gettin’ you all worked up. You should sleep.”

Steve nodded absently, not bothering to argue. Bucky was right, he was drained. All the emotion that had churned through him had left Steve exhausted in it's wake, his body tingling with exhaustion, crying out for rest. But before he would let himself relax, Steve’s good hand flashed out, grabbing Bucky’s wrist tightly and stilling his movement.

“Stay here?” He murmured, lifting his heavy eyes up to Bucky earnestly. If he _had_ to leave him eventually, Steve wanted to cling to every moment he had left with Bucky. In the days of Steve’s captivity in the Barnes mansion, he’d grown accustom to sleeping with Bucky. He’d learned to match the pace of their breathing, and had learned to love the sound of Bucky’s heartbeat as it fell into sync with his. Steve had gotten used to sleeping with Bucky’s warm, solid embrace surrounding him, and without it, he’d slept poorly. He needed that back, even for just a little while.

Bucky smiled, and wordlessly disentangled Steve’s hand from his own. Pushing back the thin blanket at the end of the bed, Bucky slipped down onto the mattress beside Steve, ever so carefully looping one arm under the gentle curve of his waist, the other sliding around the back of Steve’s neck as he drew the smaller boy against his body. He snuggled in close, Bucky’s chin resting on the top of Steve’s head, their legs tangled together just like they had always slept before.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief, nuzzling in against his chest as the aching mass of fear and uncertainty melted away, uncoiling under the warmth of Bucky’s embrace. Whatever was going to happen to them could happen. Bucky could struggle for Mr. Rogers’ trust, and acceptance. Steve could ache with a loneliness so deep in Bucky’s inevitable absence that it felt like his heart would break. They may struggle, and fight, and times might be a little lean until Steve’s father got settled with the new job; but those were all problems for another time. For now, all Steve wanted was to have the luxury of forgetting the world around them, and getting lost in Bucky’s affection, gradually slipping to sleep as he listened to the steady beat of his lover’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're down to the end of it here, one more chapter left. Let me know what you think! :)


	13. Epilogue

_Four months later_

 

The door pushed open, Bucky shouldering his way out of the lecture hall between the other milling college students as they scattered in every direction. Some disappeared through doors, heading to other classes, or dinner, others dropping down right in the hall with their phones out and backs against the wall.

As he walked, a hand caught his elbow and Bucky tossed a quick glance back. His classmate walked just behind him, holding to the sleeve of his shirt, and catching his gaze. “You’re gonna remember to text me those notes, _right,_ James?” She pressed, arching an eyebrow with a teasing smirk. “Cause I swear to god, you forget _again_ and I’ll murder you.”

“I’m not gonna forget,” He scoffed, shouldering his backpack with an easy grin and tugging free of her grip. “Relax, I’ll handle it.”

“You’d better…” She murmured satirically, releasing him before tossing him a smirk and branching off down the hall. “See you at dinner.”

Bucky returned the easy smile, another classmate shouldering against him good naturedly as he walked. The friendships Bucky had formed over the past four months weren’t deep. No one knew about his connections, or background. No one knew about his blood soaked family history and visceral past. To them, he was just another student, and because of that, they were the first _real_ friendships Bucky had formed in his entire life. Maybe no one knew him intimately, but they spent time with him because they _liked_ him, not because of who his family was. And to be honest, _it felt pretty good._

Bucky had formed a network of casual acquaintances, and a few he could even consider _friends_. He was doing well in his classes for the first time in his life, and had even dabbled in extracurriculars that he might never have considered before. Rock climbing. Swimming. Debate. Bucky was comfortable with his floor mates, and got on well with his professors and academic advisors. And for the most part, Bucky was happy.

But at the same time, nothing felt right. He felt isolated despite his contacts, _aching_ for someone that understood his situation, but know that confiding in anyone would upset the delicate anonymity he had built for himself. He missed the comfort of his home. His missed his mother, and regretted the vicious, violent ending between himself and his father. But mostly, Bucky was bitterly lonely for the one person in the world who’d seen the ugliest parts of his life and still loved him.

_He missed Steve._

Bucky felt the dull ache that seemed to constantly crush at his heart grow suddenly razor sharp. If Steve were here, everything else would settle out. Everything would be okay. But as it was, Bucky had seen Steve only twice, since leaving for Virginia, and the tiny tastes of what he’d left behind only made him ache for Steve all the more. He fought with wondering if coming here was a mistake, if leave _Steve_ for so long was a mistake. How was it fair to expect Steve to wait for him _four years?_

But the alternative was almost more than he could bear. Returning to Brooklyn for good just _wasn’t_ an option.

Bucky brushed through the crowded hallway, his eyes glazed, and unseeing as he instinctively navigated the clutter of students, his feet taking him thoughtlessly back in the direction of his dorm. Today wasn't a day he wanted to interact with his school contacts. Somedays, when he ached for Steve so badly he thought he'd die, talking to the others helped. It distracted him, _sometimes_ , he even divulged a little bit about the boy he had waiting for him; but not today. Today, Bucky didn't want to see _anyone_. He wanted to curl up in his bed, and block out the rest of the world, comforting himself only in counting the days till he could see the boy he loved one more time.

The brunet startled as his shoulder glanced roughly off another student and he stumbled awkwardly to the side, muttering an apology. He wet his mouth with a sweep of his tongue, glancing back up to make sure his path was clear, _and his heart stopped in his chest._

It was just a glimmer; just a flash of blond hair, and pale skin. He _could_ just be seeing things. Maybe he’d mistaken another student for-

 _But no._ There wasn’t a person alive like his Steve.

Bucky felt his heart rate skyrocket, his mind suddenly sharp with clarity. His pace picked up to a stumbling jog as he brushed past students, and classmates, head lifted, eyes scouring the hall. Faces blurred together, conversations overlapping into a dull roar. Bucky’s eyes snapped feverishly from side to side, trying to pick out the one face from the crowd that mattered.

 _Again_. A glint of blond hair, a flash of a barely suppressed smile.

_Steve was here._

Bucky was all but running now, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he thought his ribs might break. An incredulous grin spread wide across his face. Suddenly, Steve broke from the crowd, and Bucky hit him full on.

Their bodies connected with a muted _thump_ , Bucky’s arms tightening around the smaller boy’s waist as he dragged him close, lifting his feet from the tiles with a sharp laugh of delight. Steve gasped shortly, grinning as he grabbed Bucky’s arms, hanging on for dear life as he swept him up off the floor. Steve’s feet hit the ground with a _thump_ , and the second he was standing Bucky dragged him around, pressing him flush against the wall and yanking him into a delirious kiss.

Steve’s gorgeous, bubbling laugh was cut off as Bucky crushed their mouths together, gripping Steve’s waist so hard he’d be finding bruises later, but Steve didn’t care. Bucky’s mouth was hot and desperate on his own, his body thrumming with delight, lips curling into a smile even as they kissed. Steve, still shaky with excitement, reached up, catching Bucky’s jaw in his slender, boney hands. He dragged him closer, nose scrunching against Bucky’s cheek, teeth catching, and tongues bumping gracelessly.

_“Get a room!”_

The teasing jeer came from a few feet behind them, and Bucky broke the kiss, still grinning as he turned. One of his classmates was leaning against the wall, smirking, his nose wrinkled at the public display of affection. Beaming easily, Bucky flipped him off, the other boy snorting with a good natured eye roll as Bucky’s arm slid around Steve’s waist, pressing him back as he caught the younger boy’s mouth in a full, _very_ purposeful kiss.

Steve gave a little noise of surprise, his fingers sliding back into Bucky’s hair as he kissed him back, deep and open, his hands dragging him closer, unable to get enough of him. Bucky pressed him back against the wall as his spreading grin broke the kiss, and he breathed a gasping sigh, nuzzling against Steve’s face.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” He breathed, too deliriously happy to be even a _little bit_ annoyed.

“Ts'point of a surprise visit, Asshole."Steve murmured, tugging Bucky back and kissing him again, hurried, and tactless, still smiling as he crushed their mouths together.

Bucky moaned, accepting the answer and the kiss as Steve pulled him back in, as desperate for Bucky’s touch as he was for Steve’s. And _fuck_ it felt amazing. It had been well over a month since Bucky had seen Steve over more than a video chat, and he’d missed him so bad it _hurt_. He _ached_ for his touch, _ached_ to felt his gorgeous, slender body under his hands, and his lush, pink lips against his own. He’d missed hearing his deep, soft voice, and feeling his perfect hands stroking his neck and back as he straddled his hips with his slender thighs. There wasn’t a thing about him he _hadn’t_ missed.

" _Steve_ -” Bucky breathed raggedly, turning his face in against his neck, dragged his wet, open mouth up over the shell of his ear. “Come with me…or else I swear to god I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“ _That’d cause a scene_.” Steve murmured with a smirk, his heart fluttering as Bucky kissed just below his ear, before seizing his hand and dragging him away from the wall.

“ _C'mon_ ,” he said breathlessly, and took off down the hall, Steve stumbling along after him, his face spread into a wide, easy grin. They drew quite a lot of attention, and a handful of dirty looks. But the majority of the stir they caused came in the form of snickers, and teasing wolf whistles, someone shouting a helpful reminder to _‘wrap it before you tap it, Barnes,_ ’ after them. Bucky took the ribbing with grace, still beaming from ear to ear.

“Friends of yours?” Steve asked, and Bucky flashed him a quick grin.

“ _Assholes_ , every one of them.”

“Then you fit right in.”

Still clutching Steve’s hand, Bucky pulled him close, kissing him fully on the mouth before he dragged him down the hall and away from prying eyes, and teasing remarks.

-.-

Bucky pulled Steve through the door, closing it with a click and huffing a sigh. His cheeks ached from smiling. Bucky hadn’t felt this good in a _long_ time, _certainly_ not since the last time he’d seen Steve. Steve had come in just on his heels, cheekbones flushed pink from running, narrow chest rising and falling in uneven, exhilarated gasps.

“Y'don’t need your inhaler, do you?” Bucky asked breathlessly, watching as Steve tugged his fingers through his now windblown blond hair, taking a deep, gulping breath.

“Nah-” he panted, his flushed pink lips drawn into a smirk. “I’m fine.”

Bucky wet his mouth with a sweep of his tongue, his grin easing into a soft smile as he looped an arm around Steve’s waist, drawing him gently against his body. “ _Good_ …” He murmured, pressing a soft, tender kiss against his lips, feeling Steve’s blood racing under his skin, heart fluttering inside his fragile ribcage.

Steve sunk into the kiss, still breathing heavily through his nose as he indulged in Bucky’s affection, thrilled that his surprise had gone off without a hitch. He hadn’t needed to hide it long. Until four days ago, Steve hadn’t known himself he was going to be paying a surprise visit. But a _lot_ had happened in four days, and Bucky was going to want to know. But the news would hold until later. For now, Steve drank in Bucky’s affection, and let himself melt under the perfect warmth of Bucky’s kiss.

The dead run from the hall to Bucky’s dorm had burned off some of the initial desperation and passion, and Bucky let his pace slow, kissing Steve with deep indulgence, treating himself to the taste of his lover’s perfect lips. His hand slid up from Steve’s waist, tracing up his ribs and over his shoulders, coming up to cradle Steve’s neck and jaw in his wide palms, thumbs stroking over his cheeks. He hummed contentedly, feeling Steve’s body go so beautifully relaxed and pliable under his hands. He blinked slowly, his lashes kissing Steve’s as they brushed across his cheekbones. Bucky drank in the sight of Steve, all doe-eyes and flushed lips, breathing heavily after the deep, passionate kiss.

He had healed beautifully. Steve looked up at him, as gorgeous as the day they’d first met. His perfect, porcelain skin was free from the discoloration of bruises, his arm no longer casted, and trapped close to his body by a sling. The blotches of broken, scarlet, blood vessels had cleared from his scalars, his striking blue eyes sharp, and devoid of pain.

Reaching down, Bucky’s hands stroked over Steve’s cheeks, his breath leaving him in a low sigh as he drank in the sight of the love of his life. “ _Missed you_ …” He whispered, nuzzling him tenderly as Steve smiled into the kiss, his eyes falling closed as he soaked in the affection.

Steve hummed warmly, closing the space between their lips in a slow, languid kiss, his slender arms coming up to twine around his neck. His pale, bone thin fingers traced ticklish patterns up and down the back if his neck, prickling his skin, and sending a shiver of anticipation through him.

“So much…” Bucky breathed, Steve snickering quietly as he took his jaw, kissing the corner of his lips, his cheeks, his nose, backing Steve up until the smaller boy was pinned, full-body, between Bucky and the dorm wall. “Missed you _so_ much…” The brunet purred in pleasure, capturing his mouth deeply as one hand stroked down over his chest, curling into the waist band of his jeans, under his boxers.

“Down boy…” Steve managed, a shiver running through his slender body as Bucky’s chilly fingers brushed against his pubic bone, his face turning into the side of Steve neck. Steve gave a helpless little groan, Bucky’s fingers flexing in his waistband, brushing just a centimeter lower.

Bucky smirked, abruptly latching his mouth on to the side of Steve’s neck and sucking dark blotch onto his skin, the smaller boy squirming with delight. “Not a _chance_ …” He whispered teasingly, nipping Steve’s ear, kissing, and sucking over the angry red mark. His fingers teased just along the inside of Steve’s clothing, brushing across his skin, dragging through the wiry thatch of dirty blond hair at the base of his cock. Bucky could feel the outline of Steve’s prick pressing against his jeans, and he moved his hips in a dirty, sinuous shift, rubbing his own erection against Steve’s, feeling the boy suddenly jerk with arousal.

Steve barely suppressed a groan, his eyelids falling closed as his short, trimmed nails pressed crescents into the back of Bucky’s neck. “ _Fuck_ , Bucky-” he gasped, jaw dropping open as Bucky kissed down his throat, nipping and sucking at every exposed bit of skin, but Steve didn’t care. Bucky could suck hickeys on to _every inch_ of his body, and it would just make sure that everyone in the _entire fucking world_ knew he was his. And Steve fully intended to return the favor.

Turning his head in to the side, Steve nipped at the back of Bucky’s neck the older boy giving a jerk of surprise before growling against the side of Steve’s neck. The blond shifted, sucking below Bucky’s ear, necking hungrily with him as Bucky brushed along his hips, teasing him, but Steve knew this was all just preamble. He knew what Bucky really wanted.

Hands sliding from his neck to his jaw, Steve grabbed Bucky’s face, dragging him up, dominating the cavern of his mouth in a kiss that made Bucky’s knees go weak. His hands froze on Steve’s waistband, a low whine escaping his throat as Steve gripped his jaw, kissing him with possessive force that send shivers quaking through his body, his cock aching with arousal.

“Stevie-” he whispered, his voice breaking desperately, as Steve caught his breath, staring at up him, eyes glazed with desperation and lust. He’d been waiting for this.

The smaller boy curled his hands into Bucky’s waistband, easing him back, his lashing lowering suggestively as the tip of his tongue brushed between his teeth. He looked suddenly predatory, his gaze raking along Bucky’s body in a way that made him feel deliciously exposed. Steve wet his mouth, his flushed lips gleaming sinfully with excess saliva. “Take your shirt off.” He murmured, his voice low, and assertive, and Bucky felt a thrill of delight run up his spine.

He fucking _loved_ it when Steve got bossy.

Hurriedly, Bucky complied, struggling to yank his shirt off over his head, his skin flushing with heat as Steve’s artistic fingers deftly undid his belt buckle. The high clink met his ears, and Bucky felt the leather side from his belt loops, Steve letting the leather strap coil to the floor. Bucky swallowed hard, anticipation bubbling in his stomach, his head light with pleasure as Steve stalked forward, pressing him back until he hit the mattress with a muted _thump_.

For just a moment, Steve’s assertive demeanor cracked and he suddenly pressed him down with a grin, kissing Bucky as he straddled his waist, bent over top of him, his arms around his neck. Bucky arched into the kiss, his hands sliding around to curl into Steve’s ass, groping him through his jeans. Steve’s soft, slender thighs framed Bucky’s hips, his soft laughter muffled into the kiss, his weight shifting back and forth across Bucky’s aching cock. They stayed there for a few minutes, still just drinking in each other’s touch with quiet laughter and wet, clumsy kisses. They lay there, kissing, and groping, Steve rutting against Bucky’s hips until the older boy’s laughter turned to soft, high whines of desperation.

“Steve-” Bucky gasped, his eyelids fluttering, moaning aloud as Steve dragged his hips across Bucky’s, dry humping him as he sucked a gorgeous purple blotch right on the side of his neck for all the world to see. “ _Steve_ -” he choked again, fingers digging into his ass. “I- I need more- I- oh fucking- _god_ \- I need you Steve-”

The slender blond smirked against his neck, his playful snickering fading away as he gave his cleft chin a sharp nip. “You want me?” He purred softly, shedding his shirt and moving back in, nibbling and kissing from Bucky’s chin up to his lower lip, bitting on it gently to draw a blood red flush to the surface.

“Want-” Bucky managed, his head tipping back with a gasp as Steve ground down particularly hard over his cock, his hips dragging over his _sinfully_. “ _Fuck!”_ He choked, eyes flashing open. “ _God_ \- fucking _dammit_ Steve, I _need_ you- I- I _need_ you- please-” Bucky babbled, his fingers tightening into his ass, pressing the denim into his soft flesh.

Bitting down on his lower lip to suppress a smirk, Steve’s hands dragged down Bucky’s bare chest, fingers curled slightly, his nails scraping thin, white lines down his skin. He felt Bucky shudder underneath him, the older boy moaning helplessly as Steve’s nails dragged down over the lateral cut of his waist, and Steve felt a thrill of delight run through his body. Bucky was so needy for him, so desperate, and Steve loved it. He loved that Bucky, self-assured, powerful, utterly _gorgeous_ Bucky couldn’t get enough of _him_. He _loved_ the way that Bucky shuddered and squirmed underneath if him, begging, gasping desperately for more, his cheeks scarlet, jaw dropped open with pleasure. Steve could never get tired of seeing Bucky looking up at him, eyes glazed, pupils blown out as gave himself up completely, letting Steve have his way with him. He could never tire of all the _beautiful_ sounds Bucky made, of knowing he could make him weak with pleasure, of knowing he could make _his_ Bucky feel so _good_ …

Steve looked up, meeting Bucky’s gaze, the older boy staring back at him, the steel blue of his eyes swallowed all but completely by black. His bare chest was heaving, his sinful red lips shiny with excess saliva. _Fuck he was perfect._ Steve had no idea how it had happened that he got to call Bucky his, but he had him now, and he was never letting go.

Ducking his head, Steve pressed his mouth against Bucky’s muscular abdomen, kissing long and slow, further, and further down, his fingers working deftly at the front of his jeans. His tongue slid between his lips, Bucky shuddering as the wet tip just _grazed_ the skin over his hip bones. Steve worked on Bucky’s jeans and boxers  as he kissed over his skin, pulling them lower on his hips. He trailed kisses into his thatch of dark pubic hair as he tugged his clothing lower, focusing on making his Bucky feel good.

Bucky huffed a ragged gasp, his fingers curling into the sheets, bunching them in his fists to ground himself as Steve began murmuring sweet nothings under his breath, the words whispering across his skin. 

 " _Mine_ …“ He murmured. “ _My_ Bucky…So perfect…I love you…Love you _so_ much, you’re _so_ perfect for me… _All mine_ …” Steve whispered, in his filthiest tone, slowly working Bucky’s jeans and boxers off his hips, shoving them down around his ankles. He could feel Bucky shivering with anticipation, and Steve felt the delicious tug if arousal in his gut as he drank in the sight of Bucky’s thick, sturdy cock. _Shit_ …Bucky was too gorgeous to be real. His cock was flushed, the tip shiny, and wet with dripping precome, the milky beads already sliding down the length of his shaft.

Steve uttered a low moan, leaning in and licking just over his slit, collecting the musky fluid on his tongue, savoring Bucky’s taste. “ _Fuck_ …” He whispered reverently, eyes falling closed as he licked, long and slow, from base to tip, his hand curled around the base, Bucky’s hips jerking involuntarily beneath him. “Fuck, you taste so _good_ …oh _god_ Buck…missed this so much…” He breathed, licking back down the length of his shaft with a heady moan of indulgence

A groan wrenched from Bucky’s lips, as Steve’s hot mouth dragged along the length of his cock and his hands instinctively released the sheets. He reached down desperately fisting through Steve’s hair, twisting the fine, blond strands between his fingers to keep himself anchored. His body shuddered with pleasure as Steve licked, and teased, and tasted him like he was the best thing in the world. His tongue, hot, and wet brushed across his sensitive slit, tracing just under his cock head, and dragging, flat, and warm all the way down to the base. Bucky stifled a groan, closing his eyes,  and waiting in coiled anticipation for the feeling of Steve’s perfect mouth enveloping his cock in that amazing wet heat. But Steve had something entirely different in mind.

Thin, artistic fingers gripped into his bare thighs, and Steve rolled his hips forward, pushing Bucky's legs forward. Ducking his head, Steve, nuzzled between Bucky's legs dragged his wet, _filthy_ mouth down over his balls, his damp lips coming to rest just over the tight, pink knot of Bucky’s entrance.

A choking gasp tore from Bucky’s lips, the older boy’s eyes flashing open as Steve suddenly licked a hot strip over his hole, sending adrenaline, and pleasure coursing through his bloodstream. “Fuck! Oh _fuck_! Oh _god_ Steve!” He gasped, blinking rapidly, his chest suddenly heaving as his grip tightened though Steve’s hair, sending a prickle of pain over the younger boy’s scalp.

Steve slowed, his hands suddenly soothing gently over Bucky’s thighs, feeling a slight tremor beginning to quiver in his muscles. “Do you like that?” He asked quietly, licking in tiny, light brushed around Bucky’s entrance without actually touching it. “You want me to stop?” Steve murmured, gentle, and patient, stroking his thighs, turning his head to gently kiss the inside of his upper leg.

“ _No_ -” Bucky blurted sharply, his heart lurching in his chest, consciously loosening his grip through the fine blond hair so he wouldn’t hurt his lover. “No- don’t- it feels good- feels… _amazing_ …fuck Stevie, it feels so good… _so_ good, don’t stop. Please, Stevie, don’t-” he gasped, letting his hand slid free and stroking over his hair, gently carding the sweaty locks away from his face. He stared down at Steve, cheeks flushed scarlet, eyes wide with desperation.

Steve returned his gaze for a long moment, watching for any sign of indecision on Bucky’s face before a little smile touched his lips, and he breathed a low sigh, indulging in Bucky’s sweet caresses. Again, Steve gently kissed the inside of Bucky’s thigh, soaking in the brief quiet moment as Bucky petted his hair, Steve trailing soft kisses over his skin, absently stroking his legs with gentle, slender fingers.

As Steve opened his eyes, Bucky saw the glint of mischief reenter his gaze, saw the teasing smirk beginning to pull at his lips when Steve ducked his head, nuzzling back between his legs. Bucky felt a sudden heat wash up his spine, arousal crackling through him like electricity as Steve’s tongue pressed against his hole. He gave a tight gasp of surprise, and pleasure, eyes widening, jaw dropping open. His fingers tightened back through Steve’s hair, as a delicious tension tightened through his body, chest heaving, sweat breaking out on his neck and brow. 

He suddenly felt delightfully exposed, and _wonderfully_ filthy.

Steve sealed his mouth over his entrance, sucking, kissing, and probing carefully with his tongue, feeling a heady lust coil in the pit of his stomach. Bucky tasted _so fucking good._ He tasted like sharp, spiced body wash, delicious, _perfect_ , like he’d known he was going to do just this and had cleaned his gorgeous body specifically for him. Steve let off with an obscene _pop_ , breathing warm air across the wet, fluttering knot of Bucky’s ass, and feeling the older body shudder under his touch. Steve moaned softly, nuzzling against his skin, and lightly kissing over his rim. He laved attention over it, licking in tiny flicks, and broad, flat sweeps, sucking playfully before pressing deeper, and letting the tip of his tongue breach his entrance.

Bucky’s body arched up off the bed with a wrecked cry, Steve’s grip anchoring his legs in place as the younger boy rimmed him, beginning to work his tongue in and out of his body, making Bucky’s thighs trembling and his cock ache. Bucky caught his breath, cheeks scarlet, cock weeping precome all over the tightened core of his abs. Steve’s filthy ministrations were yanking him around right on the verge of an orgasm; almost too much, but at the same time, not _quite_ enough. He groaned, his thighs trembling as his breath caught, Steve’s tongue pushing deeper.

Steve drank in Bucky’s sweet, desperate noises, indulging in his whimpers of helpless pleasure as he pressed his open mouth around Bucky’s entrance, feeling the quivering muscle loosen, and relax as he fucked in and out of him with his tongue. He could feel the tension in his body, coiling; building.

Steve drew away with a gasp, mouth and chin slick with saliva, Bucky’s outright moan meeting his ears with a pitch of desperation. He’d been close, and Steve _knew_ it. That’s why he’d eased off. Steve could read Bucky’s body like an open book. He knew all his queues, all his tells. Steve knew when Bucky needed more, and when he needed to ease off, and right now, Steve wanted this to last. He had more in mind that just rimming Bucky until he came.

Steve let one hand slide from Bucky’s thigh, his gaze flickering across the little, circular bruises pressed into the soft skin from his fingertips. Dragging his forearm across his mouth and chin, Steve slid up between Bucky’s legs, fingers trailing along his side as he lowered his mouth against Bucky’s.

Bucky caught his breath, his head light, and foggy with pleasure. Steve’s breath whispered across his skin, and Bucky could taste himself on Steve’s lips as the younger boy eased closer, pressing a warm, tender kiss against his mouth. His fingers slid from Steve’s hair, tracing down the back of his neck, stroking and brushing as Steve kissed him, returning the gentle caresses.

“Do you have supplies?” Steve murmured against Bucky’s mouth, his perfect, slender fingers sliding from his ribs to stroke deftly across Bucky’s aching cock.

Bucky swallowed a heady moan, nodding hurriedly, his lips grazing Steve as he moved. “D-desk drawer-” he gasped, shivers taking his body as Steve’s index finger brushed, feather light down the underside of his shaft, pleasure racing through his veins.

Giving him a praising kiss, Steve drew back, his fingers against his twitching cock the last thing to break contact. He slipped from the bed, his bare feet whispering across the floor as he padded over to the desk, fussing through the drawer until he found the objects he was looking for. He tore a condom free from the strip, his finger finding the bottle of lube, right where they’d left it the last times he’d visited. Turning back, Steve paused, undoing the front of his jeans, catching Bucky’s gaze and watching him from under his lashes as he slowly drew them off his hips. Bucky squirmed on the bed, bitting his flushed lower lip almost raw as Steve set the supplies on the bed, and then rested his palms on his concave stomach, fingers splayed downward. Steve dropped his gaze, suddenly playing at bashfulness as his cheeks flushed a beautiful, delicate pink, his hands sliding down until his fingers slipped under the waistband of his boxers, slowly easing them lower.

Bucky groaned, unable to look away if his life depended on it as Steve slowly exposed his gorgeous body. It was pure torture. Bucky ached to get his hands on Steve. It had been too long, and all he wanted to do was kiss, and stroke, and touch every inch of him. His pink cheeks were a delicious show of innocence, and had Bucky not know him so well, he _might_ have bought it. Steve looked for all the world like a tender, blushing virgin, untouched, and unspoiled, tentatively shy at exposing his body for another’s eyes. But Steve knew full well by now that Bucky _adored_ his body, and the show of modesty was just that, _a show._

Steve teased his boxers lower, finally sliding them down around his legs, slipping to the floor around his ankles. The boy gave a low hum of pleasure, his eyes falling closed. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, fingers curling artfully around his own cock, stroking himself, slow, and lazy as Bucky watched, fixated with neglected arousal. Steve breathed a low sigh, his eyelids slowly cracking open as the delicate innocence was replaced with a sly smirk, his gaze dragging across Bucky’s shivering body.

Shifting forward in one, sinuous motion, Steve pushed Bucky’s legs flat on the bed, easing forward to straddle his hips before uncapping the bottle of lube. He watched him from under his lashes, lips parted as he slicked his first two fingers, mouth turning up in a faint smile as he nudged the bottle aside, and slipped his hand down between his own thighs, beginning to open himself up right in front of Bucky.

Bucky moaned as he watched Steve’s nose wrinkle, jaw dropping open as he worked his fingers into his own body, pumping them in an out with bitten off moans, and gasps of pleasure. He swallowed hard, stomach tight with arousal as Steve’s cheeks flushed scarlet, his tongue resting just behind his bottom teeth. _Fuck_ he wanted to touch him. Bucky swallowed hard, his hands slipping forward to stroke over Steve’s thighs, running over his legs and cock, brushing over his soft stomach. He _desperately_ wanted to help him open himself up. Watching Steve do it himself was torture.

The blond wet his mouth, breathing heavily as he scissored his fingers, his free hand slipping forward to curl around Bucky’s cock as well as his own. Steve began stroking, torturously slow, Bucky whimpering, and moaning as Steve’s perfect fingers rubbed their flushed, blood-hot lengths against one another.

Bucky dragged in a steadying breath. The keen, painful edge of building pleasure had eased slightly, but watching Steve finger himself wasn’t making it any easier. Steve panted, a shiver suddenly running up his spine, a stifled gasp escaping his throat as his fingers grazed the sensitive cluster of nerves inside of him. 

Bucky swallowed back a moan, desperately wishing he could feel Steve’s perfect, tight ass tightening around his fingers. Wishing he could be the one making Steve gasp with pleasure. "You sure you don’t need help with that?“ Bucky breathed, his gaze dropping to greedily drink in the sight of Steve’s fingers sliding in and out if his ass; three now, his rim flushed and puffy. 

At Bucky’s raw, desperate question, Steve’s eyes flickered open, having closed before in a look of aroused bliss at the stimulation of his body. He looked down at him, his deliciously wet lips spreading in a smile that caught just between affection and teasing. Slowly releasing their cocks, Steve reached down, fingers slick with precome as he took Bucky’s wrist. Lifting the older boy’s hand from his thigh, he slipped it between his legs, never breaking eye contact as Bucky’s fingers trailed under his balls, brushing, and feeling tentatively until he found where Steve’s fingers worked to open up his tight ring of muscle.

Stomach coiled with anticipation, Bucky let his fingertips brush over Steve’s rim, feeling the way it sucked Steve’s fingers in, hot, and tight, feeling the way it fluttered under his touch. He swallowed, swiping his fingers through the excess lube that squelched down around the base of Steve’s knuckles, before slowly crooking his index finger, pushing upwards.

Steve gasped as the fourth finger stretched his body wide, Bucky’s working in along side his own, sending a delicious burn of pain through his lower body. His chin dropped to his chest, mouth open as he dragged in ragged, panting gasps, Bucky’s finger working artfully inside him, stroking his inner walls and pushing deeper, brushing, probing until-

Bucky’s finger grazed his prostate and a cry wrenched from Steve’s lips, precome drooling down the length of his cock as it twitched with arousal, pleasure burning through his entire body.

Bucky stared up at him, wordless, the image of Steve’s expression, twisted into a wrecked cry of pleasure seared into his mind. He was _beautiful_. Bucky’s free hand stroked over Steve’s thigh, the younger boy shivering, his narrow chest heaving as he tried to reign himself back from the edge, his teething sunk into his lower lip.

By this point, their were no words necessary between the two of them. It had been too long. They’d ached for each other for too long to not know _exactly_ what the other wanted. They’d ached for their bodies, for the hot, heady gasps of pleasure, muffled into wet, desperate kisses. They’d longed to feel the slide of skin on skin, sweaty, and intimate, mouths grazing skin, hands stroking, touching, gripping-

Their roles had melted away to nothing. There was no dominate, and submissive. No control. No rules. Just the two of them, and the hot, aching passion coursing through their veins. 

Steve worked his fingers inside his own body for a few moments longer, before slipping them out with a gasp, his body feeling suddenly gapping; too loose, too empty. Bucky’s was the last to slide out, still tracing the loose, velvety heat of his insides, indulging it the wet slide of skin on skin. He continued to trace his rim, finger dipping in and out of his body as Steve reached, with shaking fingers from the condom laying on the sheets.  

He tore the condom from its wrapper, head spinning, hardly able to see straight as Bucky continued to finger him, deep, and slow, stroking and caressing the most intimate parts of his body. Still shaking, Steve rested the condom against the weeping head of Bucky’s cock, rolling it slowly down his shaft. He could feel Bucky quivering under his hands, body coiled tight with anticipation, his flushed, red lips parted, pupils blown out as their eyes locked, gazes laced with needy desperation.

Bucky’s finger finally slid out of his body, tracing a light circle around his loosened rim before brushing, featherlight, down the inside of his thigh. Steve shifted up onto his knees, slow, and easy, his fingers curling around Bucky’s cock as the older boy’s hands gripped spots of bruising into his thighs. Steve gently eased Bucky’s cock against his loosened, slicked ass, stifling as gasp as it nudged against him, blood-hot, achingly hard. "Mmmmhh-” he pressed his lips together, eyes falling closed as he swallowed back the noise, beginning to sink back on Bucky’s cock, the older boy’s shaft beginning to slip into the heat of his body.

Bucky stared up at Steve, a moan tearing from his lips as Steve took his length. He could feel his perfect, beautiful body stretching around his cock. He could feel the heat, and pressure, the spasmodic tightening as Steve’s ass clenched around his girth, wrenching another moan from deep in his chest. But he had no words, his mind had room for only one thing, and that was _Steve_.

Pushing up from the mattress, unable to be satisfied with only the touch to his thighs any more, Bucky sat up, suddenly pulling his lover’s body against his own, dragging him into an aching, desperate kiss. His finger’s curled through Steve’s hair, clinging to him, yearning for his touch, his kiss, aching to having him as close as possible; a part of him. 

He began to shift slowly, rolling his hips upward, matching Steve’s pace as they began to move together, Bucky’s upward thrusts meeting Steve’s downward as he pushing himself deeper onto Bucky’s cock. Steve arched closer, his face pressing into the side of Bucky’s neck, gasping, and panting, his eyes squeezed closed, fingers digging into Bucky’s back and neck. 

Tantalizing pain prickled through Steve’s body, aching, and burning as Bucky’s thick-cut cock forced his rim wide, stretching him open. Steve shuddered, his shoulder rolling forward as his fingernails dug into his lover’s back, leaving thin, white crescents behind as he clung to him. His teeth sunk into the skin of Bucky's neck; not rough, or primal, just trying to ground himself. It was overwhelming, feeling him so close, having him inside him, feeling Bucky’s pulse throbbing in his own body. Shaking from the intoxicating intimacy, Steve let himself get lost, rolling his hips in sync with Bucky, their bodies sliding together. Closer. Deeper. His eyes glazed, body trembling.

Bucky’s arms tightened around Steve’s quivering body, panting hot, heady moans against his neck, his fingers gripping into Steve’s body. One hand slipped down Steve’s back, groping his ass, his fingers sliding between the gorgeously flushed cheeks to graze around Steve’s stretched rim, feeling where their bodies connected. He pressed deeper.

His index finger slipped past Steve’s rim, the younger boy’s teeth sinking deeper into his neck as he bit back a cry of pleasure. Bucky’s finger worked into him along side his cock, trapped between the latex of the condom, and the blood-hot, velvet walls of his insides. _Stroking. Pressing. Stretching._

Steve rolled his hips down deeper, and Bucky felt the rim of Steve ass clench around his finger, and the very base of his cock, taking Bucky’s length completely inside him. He shuddered, rocking back and forth on Bucky’s cock, feeling the other boy’s thick girth shifting and sliding inside of him, his lover’s finger working in along side it. 

Bucky felt his breath hitch in his chest, his eyes dropping closed with a reverent moan as he clutched Steve to his chest, clinging to him like the only good thing in the world, like to let go would be to loose Steve forever. His fingers dug into his shoulder, his other hands still clenching over his ass, one finger caught in the greedy heat of Steve’s body. He shifted his hips upward, Steve’s ass flush against his thighs, the entirety of his length taken inside his lover’s body. Sweat slid in thin trails down his temples and neck, pooling in the dip between his collarbones, trickling down his muscular chest. Steve was shivering against him, but his body radiated heat. His hair clung to his forehead in damp locks, his teeth having finally slid free of his skin as he panted against Bucky’s neck. Points of deep, dull pain ached pleasantly across his back from where Steve’s fingers dug into his flesh, clutching him with equal desperation to his own, clinging to him like he was never going to let go.

Steve shifted in Bucky’s arms, still mostly trapped against the older boy's body, held in place by his strong, muscular arm wrapped around the back of his neck, gripping into the pale flesh of his back. He ground his hips down, his pace quickening as his desperation came to a peek, his hands coming up to grab Bucky’s jaw and capture his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. 

As Bucky arched into the kiss, trapping Steve against his flushed body, Bucky’s hips stuttered, loosing their rhythm as pleasure crashed over his body in intoxicating waves, his head suddenly light, body trembling. His hips jerked, grip tightening on Steve’s fragile body as he shook, trembling, full-bodied, as the pleasure raced through his veins like fire, heat, and lusts coursing through him. With a cry, Bucky felt his release spill inside Steve's body, his muscles tensing as he crushed the younger boy against him.

Dimly, he heard Steve groan, the sweetest, _filthiest_ little noises of pleasure escaping his kiss swollen lips as he arching into Bucky’s touch, hot lines of Steve’s release suddenly streaking their bodies. He pressed closer, trembling violently as he clung to Bucky’s jaw, mouth open against his in a silent scream as he climaxed, painting their bodies with white. 

Steve _collapsed_ , sinking against his lover’s heaving chest as Bucky eased back onto the mattress, still clinging to Steve, still holding to him like the most precious thing in the world. Bucky’s fingers trailed light, absent patterns over his sensitive skin, tracing lines down his back and shoulders as his index finger slid free of his tight heat. He didn’t bother to pull out. They could deal with all of that later. For now, all he wanted was to lay there, with Steve in his arms, panting together in hot, fucked out bliss. 

Bucky, still panting, turned his head to the side, kissing Steve’s temple wordlessly, rubbing his hands over his hipbones and ribs, caressing his body with tender strokes. He nuzzled into Steve’s hair, feeling the younger boy gasping, and panting as he lay on top of him, still trembling from the aftershock of his orgasm.  “ _Stevie_ …” He whispered, the word directionless, not demanding a reply. But his name was the only word on his tongue; the only thought in his mind. 

Steve dragged in a deep breath, huffing a shaky sigh, as he shifted just slightly on top of his lover, gently kissing the ring of dark teethmarks that he’d bitten into his pale flesh, letting his lips sooth over the segmented bruising. He could feel Bucky’s softening cock still slid deep inside his body, the excess of his release dripping down around the base of his cock, escaping the condom. He could feel his own essence cooling between them, sweat and come sticking their bodies together as they lay there in panting, intimate silence.

Steve’s grip had gone slack on Bucky’s jaw, but now he let his fingers trace down to his neck, trailing over his cooling skin as he gently pressed slow, lazy kisses against his throat. He arched closer, licking, and sucking at his sweaty flesh, indulging in the taste of his skin, in the soft, breathy sighs that they drew from Bucky's throat.

 _“I’ve missed you_ …” Bucky whispered, the first clear, cognitive words spoken between them in a long time. Bucky traced Steve’s back, nuzzling against his hair as he kissed behind Steve’s ear, his chest suddenly tight with emotion. “ _God Steve_ , I’ve missed you _so much…_ ”

Steve hummed softly against Bucky’s neck, a little gasp escaping him as he shifted, Bucky’s cock dragged across his hyper-sensitive insides. He bit back a moan, eyes closed, teeth sunk into his lip. He was silent for a moment, still breathing heavily before his swollen, damp lips parted. “Is anyone gonna interrupt us?” He whispered back, eyes still closed, head lowered against his collar bone as his breath whispered across his skin.

“No…” Bucky murmured, coming down a little off of the orgasmic high, his head clearing as he considered Steve’s question. “I know I’m on my own budget now, but I couldn’t pass up the private room…still pretty spoiled I guess…wanted my own space…I wouldn’t give up this room for the world…” He breathed, tracing the length of Steve's spine.

Steve closed his eyes, a little smile tugging at his lips as he merely hummed in reply, like he knew something Bucky didn’t.

Bucky blinked himself a little further out of his daze, his hands stilling on Steve’s back. “Stevie…” He said quietly, a note of accusing curiosity in his voice, his chin tipping down to catch a glimpse of Steve’s smiling mouth. He tipped his head to the side, eyes narrowing suspiciously, one corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked smirk.  _“What?”_ He pressed, suddenly unable to shake the feeling that Steve was sitting on some kind of secret that he didn’t know about.

Steve snuggled in against Bucky’s neck, shifting forward a little more, just enough that Bucky’s softened cock slid free of his body and he huffed a warm, contented sigh, burying his nose under the sharp angle of Bucky’s jawline. He was still smiling. Bucky could feel the way his lips pulled against his skin, he could feel the irregular little hitch in his breathing. 

 _“Steve!”_ Bucky laughed, reaching over and taking the younger boys chin and drawing his face level, his eyes gleaming with humor. “Come on! _Tell me.”_ He pleaded, the tell-tale smile on Steve’s face confirming his suspicious. Steve had something he wasn’t telling; something that was making his whole face light up like the sun.

Finally, Steve caved, ducking his chin out of Bucky’s hand with a smirk. “How does having a roommate sound?” He asked, and Bucky faltered, the smile on his lips fading with confusion.  

“What?” He asked softly, looking up at him, his gaze flickering away before lifting again, still just as confused as before.

With a flash of a grin, Steve pressed forward, grabbing Bucky's face and capturing his stunned mouth in a warm kiss, his chest suddenly bursting with happiness. “A roommate you wouldn’t mind hanging a sock on the door with?” He purred against his mouth, sliding his hips teasingly against his.

Bucky blinked, the pieces fitting together but still not making a whole picture. Of course he knew what it _sounded_ like Steve was suggesting, but that just wasn’t _possible_ …was it?

“Only person I’m ever gonna wanna hang a sock on the door with again is you, sweetheart.” He laughed, nuzzling up into the kiss. “Even if I did get a roommate…there’s no way he’d be as pretty as you…”

“Oh fuck you’re thick, Barnes.” Steve grinned, his grip on his chin tightening with excitement as he pressed a warm, full kiss to his mouth that bubbled over into a laugh of delight. “ _Me_ \- moron.” He grinned, staring down at him, eyes gleaming with joy.

Bucky stared up at him, his expression still touched with confusion. Since the moment Steve had mentioned the sock on the door he’d pieced together what it had _seemed_ like he was saying, but Bucky still didn’t see how it was possible. Steve and his family were living well now. They had a nice, comfortable house, new clothes, plenty of food to eat, and no need to stress about bill, and late rent payments, but _college?_ College took most of a kid’s life to save up for. It wasn’t like how it used to be when a fella could work a part time job over the summer and pay his way through school, that just wasn’t how it worked any more.

He shook his head, brow drawn into a frown as he locked his gaze with Steve’s, lips parted, eyes wide. “I- don’t- Steve, I don’t think I understand… _How_ -”

But Steve wasn’t put off by Bucky’s disbelieve, his wide, easy smile only broadened and he pressed close, cradling Bucky’s face in his palms as a low laugh of delight peeled from his gorgeous lips. “Accepted for fall semester… _Full-ride art scholarship_ …”

The last piece fell into place, completing the whole, amazing, _ludicrous_ picture and Bucky’s heart suddenly turned over in his chest.  _“What?”_ He gasped, his mouth suddenly spreading into a grin so wide he thought it might split his cheeks. “ _Steve!_ Stevie that’s _incredible_ \- that's- Oh _fuck,_ Steve-” He laughed suddenly dragging him into a kiss, shifting him over in one, easy motion and curling his body over top of his, legs tangled together as they clung to one another, grinning, and kissing, bare bodies shaking with laughter. 

“Steve, you fucking incredible-” the sentence was cut off as Steve dragged him back down, the wet, warm curve of his mouth matching perfectly with his. His heart was pounding in his chest, warm, and fluttering, feeling that he was going to overflow, or burst, so instead, he clutching Steve tighter, kissing him until his head spun and his mouth ached. 

Steve broke the kiss, still laughing, his cheeks pink, eyes dancing with delight. “ _Four years_ …” He laughed, nuzzling against Bucky’s face, pecking light kisses wherever he could reach as Bucky returned the gesture, the two clumsily exchanging wet, soft kisses. “ _Four years_ you’re gonna be stuck with me as your roommate…”

Bucky grinned, kissing Steve more fully, unable to keep his hands, or his mouth off of the beautiful boy for more than a _second_. “Hopefully a lot longer than that.” He snickered, kissing over Steve’s eyelids, and nose before moving back to his mouth. “I wanna be stuck with you as my roommate for the rest of my fucking _life!”_

Steve moaned into Bucky’s kiss, finally having enough cognitive thought to wrap his arms securely around his neck, holding him close. “Mmmhhh….” He hummed against his lips, tipping his head down just enough so he could speak. “That was a _shit_ proposal Buck, but I’ll give you another chance to do it right later…” 

Bucky nuzzled closer, his wild grin fading to a warm smile of pure adoration. “Alright…that proposal _was_ shit. But just so we’re clear, you _do_ want me to try again later, right?” 

Steve hummed warmly, heaving a deep, contented sigh. “Sure…Surprise me…” He whispered, his eyes closing, suddenly hit by a wave of exhaustion spurred on by the anticipation, intimacy and excitement of the day, and all he wanted was to fall asleep in Bucky’s arms knowing he could do the same thing every night from now on, knowing it was the start of the bizarre life that they were building together.

Bucky smiled, tender, and affectionate as he leaned in, pressing one more kiss to his spent lover’s lush, pink lips, his eyelashes brushing across his cheeks. “ _Alright_ …” He whispered, knowing Steve was already drifting, even as he spoke. “Alright…I will…but later…” Bucky breathed, watching Steve’s breathing even out as he slipped into a comfortable, exhausted sleep.

As Steve rested, Bucky just laid back, and drank in the sight of his sleeping lover. He was too beautiful for words. Since the crisis four months ago, Steve’s body was marked with scars. A pale scar, three inches long, cut above his left eyebrow. His wrist were circled with heavy scar tissue and a wide, inch long line below his collarbone marked were his father’s blade had nearly taken his life. But Steve was strong. He never knew when to quit, and it was because of that that Bucky was able to hold him in his arms now. 

His body had heal amazingly. A good diet had filled out the gaunt, drawn hollows of his cheeks, and his nails were no longer cracked and broken. His hair had softened, taking on a healthy shine. Even though Steve still struggled with asthma, and chronic pain, heart trouble, and a number of other maladies, his family could provide medicine for him now to help when fevers took his body, or when coughs tore at his lungs, and made his body ache. 

Laying next to him in the single bed, Bucky brushed his fingers tenderly over Steve’s sharp cheekbone, drinking in the beauty of his delicate features, marveling that he was able to call him his. His whole life, Bucky had thought little of love. Love was a side note, a bonus if it happened. His life had centered around money, and pleasure, and high living. Now, he had little more than anyone else. He was a college student with limited funds, no family, and no permanent home. 

But he had Steve. And Steve was all he’d ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it guys...its done! I had so much fun writing this story, thank you all so much for your comments and feedback, it means the world. :D Let me know what you thought of the wrap up, or the whole story in general. Thanks so much for sticking with me!

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Suggestion? I love hearing from you guys.


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